Battle Beast writes...

I loved the ep. Not just to see a new clan of Gargoyles, but it brings up memories of the war stories my Grandmother told me.

Every time I watch it, I can see my Grandmother running for cover from the Nazi's as a young girl. And then I can see my Grandfather shooting them down. Every time I watch "M.I.A." I think of my Grandfather very fondley.
To me, my grandfather was, and still is a good 'ole Canadian war hero.

Thanks a million, Greg!

Blaise writes...

M.I.A.

Ahhhh...a new ramble! Glad to hear your thoughts on the episodes again, Greg!

Anyway, as soon as I saw Una and Leo I kind of figured them to be gargoyles--I don't know why, exactly, but it just seemed so obvious. I love the idea of the magic shop, too--I know it's the type of shop I'd like to visit.
While I'm talking about the London clan (or at least, the three that we've met), I just want to talk about their designs. Not just their physical designs mind you--their clothes and such as well. I'll admit, I didn't know much about "heraldic animals" at the time I saw this, so I didn't quite pick up that layer of it. I still liked it, though--helped make them unique, even from Raven's illusion clan. The feathered wings were also quite beautiful. Their tails, though, don't look like they would be as strong as those in the other clans we have seen. Griff's and Leo's maybe, but I doubt Una would be able to wrap her tail around someone's gun and jerk it from their grasp. Their attire is similarly unique, with them wearing quasi-medieval armor and dresses (I especially like Una's dress; very elegant). Griff's is different, yet still evocative of armor, which IMO makes him seem more "modern" than his cohorts. Leo and Una's cloaks are nice, and color-coded as well--green for Leo, violet for Una. Other small things: Leo's eyes seem to have a yellowish tint while Una's have a blue one, Leo's mane is tied back in a pony tail (never noticed that before...). And, even after your ramble, Greg, I look at Griff and cannot see a bit of Foghorn Leghorn in him.
Okay, long digression. Anyway, seeing Leo and Una's coldness to the plight of the man from the street made me feel a little cold to them myself. Leo seems to be a bit more aware than Una is though. By that I mean, he's the one who looks out the window and says "There goes the neighborhood." This sort of thing leads me to believe that Leo's final "revelation" in ACT 3 is something that he's been pondering over for quite some time. Sure, he still doesn't do anything, but I can't help feeling there's something there.
The weary travelers arrive in London, and spot the memorial. I instantly recognized Goliath's statue and became intrigued, as for Griff's...I think I had some vague recollection of his portrait, but I didn't really dwell on it.
Elisa apologizes to the cabby for the "American money." It's a little touch, but I really like it.
Then the thugs show up. I think I've finally figured out the actors who did the voices of the three who talked:
Jeff Bennett--Baldy.
Neil Dickson--Red Mohawk.
Gregg Berger--Big Guy with Torn Green Shirt.
(I could be wrong, though...)
Anyway, the gargs show up and make short work of them (I especially love Angela's disdain over her foe). Leo and Una arrive on the scene, and Goliath (and this audience member) start to become confused. Elisa, noticing the growing crowd, suggests that everyone go inside the shop.
When it comes up that Goliath met the London clan in 1940, I remembered the "Previously on..." segment with Goliath saying he's going to make sure nobody uses the Gate again, and kind of figured out what would happen.
Maybe I really am cold, but I don't feel much sympathy towards Leo and Una at this point. Even in hindsight, I still feel cold. They don't even bother to listen to Goliath's story--I would have thought the mention of "being frozen in stone hibernation" would have at least piqued their curiosity in some way. Instead, they just feel like doling out punishment--even if it means shackling up an innocent third party in the dungeon for no other reason than their association with Goliath. I never noticed the parallel between Una and Demona before you mentioned it, Greg, but I definitely see it.
I didn't think Goliath's "inner monologue" was terribly awkward. I mean, Matt Bluestone, a supporting character, got pretty much a whole episode to do it. Who are we to begrudge the series lead just one line.
I like Griff's reaction to Goliath's "You saved my life--it was suppossed to work the other way around." I also like Goliath's tentative "Pleased to meet you" when he "first" meets Leo and Una.
Back on the London Clan designs again--I really liked how the artists aged them (or "youthened" them as the case may be). Lines on the face, the grey in Leo's hair. Also the voice actors did a good job (I especially liked Sarah Douglas).
I never heard the name of Douglas Bader before this episode. And even then I didn't know he was a real person (nor how exceptional he was) until I read about it in one of your responses to something. I'm glad you got the chance to meet someone like that (hell, you got to go to DISNEYLAND with someone like that--that's got to be an honor). Even in this ep, he was the one who stood out, and (knowing who he is now) it makes his dogfight with "the Skull" all the cooler.
Funny you should mention using the Goliath/Una/Leo/Griff scene in your voice seminars, Greg--I remember reading that scene in the one you held at the Gathering 2001. I was Goliath, as I recall (very hard trying to follow in Kieth David's footsteps), and Crispan Freeman was Griff. What a fun time!
I like how Goliath doesn't say a definite "Yes, let's fight" or "No, stay here" but just states a simple truth. He's trying to stay out of trouble, of course, but it also just seems, to me, like the most intelligent and even-handed thing to say. And in the next 55 years, Leo and Una apparantly twisted the whole darn thing around in their heads....
Leo expresses some doubt even at this point, asking if Griff thinks less of him and Una for not going out to fight. I like the arm clasp, too.
By this point I had definitely realized that Una and Griff were an item this far back. I also kind of guessed that during the interrum (sp?) she and Leo got together.
The Battle of Britain. I had never made the connection between the wee lad running with his sister, and the old cab driver in the present. Makes the scene even cooler now, though.
Nor, I must shamefacedly admit, did I single out the skull-and-crossbones plane ("the Skull" as I have already called him) as unique. I feel like an idiot now though--it just seems so obvious. Heck, even after the pilot's gone the PLANE continues to be a threat; the last thing Goliath and Griff have to escape. It's an old trick--you have a lot of similar enemies (planes, in this case) you give one a distinguishing (sp?) mark to set it apart and mark it as the "alpha enemy" (kind of like Stripe in "Gremlins.")
Speaking of gremlins, I kind of like the connection with the gargoyles (come to think of it, I always saw Lexington as being gremlin-like--greenish-brown with a prediliction for tinkering and all that). I also like that Bader notices them, and instead of being frightened, actually becomes a sort of ally.
The "no-dying" rule...I have to admit I get kind of sick of that sometimes. Several other animated shows I've seen (western animated) actually managed to have planes explode and no parachutes shoot out. Heck, at least they should have had "the Skull" be stuck in his plane. (And maybe I'm sadistic, but I would have liked a shot of his screaming face just before his plane crashed....)
Goliath's wound. Ouch. I still say that every time I see him get hit. He still manages to pull off some great ariel manuevers on that injured wing, though.
And talk about a tough time getting home. First they're nearly shot out of the sky by friendly fire, then a building nearly falls on them, then a truck nearly hits them (and rudely interrupts Goliath while he's speaking).
And finally Goliath realizes what we the audience already knew--that time is immutable--and to avoid the final danger ("the Skull's" plane) Goliath sends both he and Griff back to the future (pun intended). Pretty much what I expected would ultimately happen.
Leo and Una look in on their captives in the basement (the fact that Elisa and the rest are in chains lessened my respect for them another notch), and after Elisa figures out what Goliath's plan is, both of the London gargoyles pause. Una recovers and continues to rant and rail against Goliath, while Leo closes his eyes and realizes the truth. I love Leo's speech here. And how he admits that while protecting their home may have been "the right thing to do" it's still their own guilt they've been feeling. I find this scene even more fascinating with the revelation that Una is the leader of the London clan. A leader is a person, too, with all the foibles (even Goliath shows that from time to time).
Goliath and Griff show up and Griff experiences major culture shock. I love the punk playing the gameboy--he just walks right by these two huge, winged monsters and doesn't even notice. In fact, Griff is the one who nearly faints (into the path of an approaching car). I just love Goliath's "Let's not start that again." Keith David just delivers it so well.
The reunions commence. I already started warming up to Leo and Una after the cellar, but now it really is great to see the joy on their faces. Griff is also joyful, but it's easy to sense a bit of awkwardness as well.
Goliath tries to explain the time loop, and Elisa does the "smile, nod" thing and asks for the explanation just one more time. "And take it slow."
The thugs pester the "foreigner" again--it wasn't until now that I realized they were racists as well--and then find themselves reaquainted with the fact that there are people out there even more different from them. Leo and Una kick two of them away (and Una has HOOVES--triple OUCH!), and stand proudly...in front of a crowd of humans. I thought that was rather interesting. I especially like the shopkeeper (the guy in the apron). He has his arms folded almost as if in pride.

Well, there's my ramble (and a long one, too). Can't wait for your next one (though I may have to--but I'll do so gladly).

Todd Jensen writes...

Wow! A new ramble! This is the best Columbus Day present that I've ever had! (Actually, it's the only Columbus Day that I've ever had, but it was still a very pleasant surprise).

I really liked "M.I.A." and still do. A major reason is that it was set in London and I'm a Anglophile (particularly since I spent a lot of my boyhood in England, from between the time that I was 9 to the time that I was almost 13). Plus it was a time travel episode involving a bit of English history (the Battle of Britain), and on top of all that, I really liked Griff. I found him a great character.

I found your vision of Macbeth and Shakespeare visiting the Mystic shop together a delightful one (even if you don't see it as having literally happened in the Gargoyles Universe). I considered it appropriate that the London gargs be shopkeepers, on account of Napoleon's famous description of the British as "a nation of shopkeepers" (which you even alluded to in your ramble). (Of course, I've sometimes wondered if Napoleon might have reconsidered his dismissal of the British after those setbacks that he received from Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington.) And they show themselves to be further "anglicized" by even having tea! (I liked the little touch of Una apologizing for the absence of sugar on account of rationing.)

I've sometimes wondered what the London public's response was to the gargoyles' memorial statue; since they didn't know then that gargoyles were real, it must have seemed to the bulk of them like - say, raising a World War One monument to the Angels of Mons.

I also thought that the racist thugs in this episode were almost the English equivalent to the street thugs in "Awakening Part Three", "Avalon Part One", and "Hunter's Moon Part One". Rather appropriate that they'd be racists, as a parallel to the Nazis in the 1940 sequence (and definitely fitting in with Griff's comment of "The more things change, the more they stay the same.")

I hadn't even realized the similarity between Demona and Una before you mentioned it.

One thing that amused me about the episode was Leo and Una's response towards Goliath's using the Phoenix Gate - just a mild stare. (Maybe it's not so surprising, given that if you work in a magic shop, you start getting used to things.)

I liked your description of Griff, and was amused by your description of him as a "Robin Hood of the 1940's". It strikes me as particularly appropriate in light of his later on team-up with King Arthur; after all, Arthur and Robin Hood are the two leading "legendary heroes" of Britain. While a literal team-up between them in the Gargoyles Universe doesn't strike me as probable (I assume that Robin Hood is long since dead by the present-day portion of the series), Griff can serve as an equivalent to him. (Of course, T. H. White did manage to pull off a literal team-up between Arthur and Robin Hood in "The Sword in the Stone".)

I hadn't known about Douglas Bader before I saw "M.I.A." (I recall that it was Stormy who first informed me about Bader being a real historical figure when I joined the Gargoyles fandom at Station 8, back in late 1996 and early 1997). I really liked him in the episode, especially his being another human who could see gargoyles for what they really are (my favorite moments involving him being his saying "They're real, and they're on our side!" and he and Griff giving each other the thumbs-up after he shoots down the Nazi pilot). And I enjoyed "Reach for the Sky" (it even brought back memories of my boyhood in England, even though they were from the late 70's), after you recommended it in early 2001.

Goliath's line "human problems become gargoyle problems" is a favorite of mine; indeed, a close inspection of the series (as I've said before) shows how true it was. For one thing, we've seen how all those struggles for the succession to the Scottish throne between 971 and 1057 impacted the gargoyles in Scotland (the alliance between Prince Malcolm and Hudson, the flight of the eggs to Avalon after Constantine's usurpation, the rise of the Hunters, Macbeth and Demona's short-lived alliance). And it still goes on in the modern world, where Castaway's vengeful war on the clan arose from a human problem (he shot his brother and couldn't take the responsibility for it, so he goes after the gargs instead to take it out on them).

Another favorite bit of mine; Goliath tells Una that he won't let anything happen to Griff "this time", and Una puzzles over the "this time" part.

Since (as I mentioned in my comments on "Avalon Part Two") I've been working on a fantasy novel for some time now (begun even before "Gargoyles" came out) which uses the same rules for time travel as "Gargoyles" did (that you can't change the past because your travels there are already part of it), which were there even before "Gargoyles" came out as well, I had no difficulty following the time loop. (One reason why I'm grateful for having come up with those rules for time travel independently before the series aired - it made the Phoenix Gate episodes easier to follow!)

Your comment at the end about Leo remembering "what his business is supposed to be" reminded me of the scene in Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" where Scrooge tells Marley's ghost "But you were always a good man of business, Jacob", and Marley replies "Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"

At any rate, it's great to have a new ramble again. Let's hope that there's more in the weeks to come.

Todd Jensen writes...

I just thought that I'd mention that I enjoyed your account of your visit to Scotland, particularly your getting to visit the Stone of Scone/Stone of Destiny and your reading "Shakespeare's Kings" (I've got a copy of the book myself, and very much enjoyed it). Thanks for sharing it with us.

Francois Ferland writes...

If nothing went right, you recently got a post I made by mistake that included every previous questions I asked you. But if everything went right and the webmaster got my mail, it's gone and you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm hoping for the former, so here's the question I was trying to send last time:

I'm still making my way through the archives (hey, it's been four years since I read it all) and each day brings forth new ideas to me, so forgive me for swarming you with so many posts in a row.

I've been reading several of the comments you made when seeing Gargoyles episodes with your family, and where you where interested in how we reacted at first to some events. So I decided to dig up those old memories and list a few key moments from the show where you (and your staff) managed to really surprise me.

Deadly Force:

This one surprised the hell out of me. When Broadway fires the gun and we hear silence, I was certain that this was a fake-scare. I mean, one of the show's hero shooting another one? Get real! And then I saw Elisa on the floor. And not just lying there with no sign of injury like is often shown in cartoons with serious accident, but resting in a pool of her own blood! If there ever was a moment where I finally took for granted that Gargoyles was a cartoon far beyond any other in terms of sophistication, that was it. And even better, we got that from Disney? Damn, I wish they'd take that kind of risk again for a TV series...

The Edge:

The opening scene where Xanatos, responding to Owen's offer to pretend to lose, replies "I'd fire you if you did". Almost any other cartoon (or live action show for that matter) would have had the villain either beat up or berate his underling for daring to beat him. You just expect it, as it's one of the most popular stereotype on TV. At this point, I still didn't know enough about Xanatos to expect that from him. It's also a defining moment where I also realized that Xanatos wasn't your ordinary bad guy. I don't think he ever really surprised that much afterward.

A Lightouse In The Sea Of Time:

Having Xanatos shown as the one responsible for the theft at first was actually refreshing. You don't know how many shows I've seen where even for very obscure reasons the right villain is always suspected right away, or how a mostly forgotten villain will suddenly be mentionned for no reason at all just to be revealed as being the brains behind the evil scheme of the day.

Maybe producers feel they don't have time to waste on a false lead, or that it's better to give the upcoming villain some introduction, no matter how clumsy it might seem.

Outfoxed:

When we meet Preston Vogel, there was an immediate alarm in my mind. We get another executive assistant type-guy who happens to look exactly like Owen? Can you say lazy Character Model re-use? It felt very cheap, and even though the rest of the episode was good, that particular detail always bugged me. That is, until several episodes down the road, we get to...

The Gathering:

First off, the scene where Petros comments on Vogel and Owen's ressembleance was hilarious. At first, I thought it was only a bit of self-derision, being aware the animators hadn't been very subtle about Vogel's character model, until Puck tells us Vogel was the inspiration for Owen. Great stuff.

And while Oberon was wasting his energy fighting the force field, I kept yelling "Just get in form the underside, it's not protected dummy!". It always seemed stupid in cartoons and comics when nobody ever thinks to go UNDER the blasted force field. Imagine my surprise when our favourite lord and master does just that.

I'm sure there are other instances where the Gargoyles staff played on our expectations as an audience. It gives the series a much more polished feel, that you were quite aware of what we might think and expect and deliberately used that to your advantage as often as possible to surprise us.

Francois Ferland writes...

Hello yet another time Greg! Sorry to flood you with questions as of late but keep fate, as I'm running out of things to ask you.

1. This one's simple and concerns the Children of Oberon.

Almost everyone uses Children of Oberon and Fae interchangeably. But after going through the archive for said beings, you once mentionned that Fae (or is it Fey? No one seems to agree on the spelling) are only one particular group of Oberon's Children akin to the Norse or African pantheon.

I'm not really knowledgeable in myths and legends, so could you tell me who the Fey are, with example from the show? I assume (perhaps or should I say probably wrongly) that it simply represents another pantheon, maybe the Anglo-Saxon one (is it Anglo-Saxon if I'm refering to England, Scotland, Ireland and other countries nearby) in which case, Puck, Oberon and Titania might be a part of it, being quite ingrained in English litterature.

But then again, what do I know?

2. This one's not a question but a personal comment, so I can get away with it not being on the same subject :) . It just dawned on me that by creating such a complex and (in itself) realistic universe with Gargoyles, you ran the risk of the viewers not "getting" many of the subtleties of the show, its universe and characters.

With your average TV show, things are often very clear. Heroes, while hardly perfect, are almost always morally right, while bad guys, which are not always purely evil persons, are almost always despisable no matter how they try to justify themselves. You rarely see a character that can't basically be classified as "good" or "evil", or to use more appropriate terms, morally "right" or "wrong".

Also, most of the time, what you see of a character on screen is a pretty accurate representation of who that person is and what they do all the time. So if someone is always seen giving money to the poor and never seen doing anything reprehensible, you assume that person is caring and generous. It never dawns on you that the man in question might actually beat up his wife everyday, because it wouldn't "fit" with the image shown to you. Yet it would not be impossible, as people are known to have very selective values sometimes. He might feel bad for those less fortunate while thinking that "disciplining" his wife is the right thing to do for a husband. Like I said, such is rarely the case, and what is shown is often intended to be representative of the whole truth.

And finally, things are often easily explained in most TV shows. The villain did this because of that, the aliens invaded for such reason, etc.

What am I getting at? That a lot of the questions you get at Ask Greg are due to the above. Although the fans recognize and live the show for its maturity and above-average (and that's putting it lightly) complexity, they fail to realize that things in the Gargoyles universe, just like in real life, don't have easy answers.

The seemingly benign Weird Sisters lost a large part of the popular vote when it seemed all their interventions were geared for the sole purpose of revenge. Yet, you said yourself that the Sisters have many aspects, with vengeance and fate being a part of them. We at first ASSUMED they were completely (or close to) benign, and then we changed our perception to one where they are only after revenge. And yet, like you said, things aren't that simple, and we STILL don't know much about who the Sisters really are. The fate part might play a larger role later on, or they could yet reveal another part of their identity. In the end, they are complex characters who cannot be summed up in a few sentence, which is what most people seem to want.

Oberon is another victim of this. I admit that I too, thought he was a big arrogant jerk, whom Titania manipulated all the time to get what she felt was best for everyone. But like you made me realize, he has a lot of quality, the first being that he cared enough about mortals and how his Children dealt with them to force them out in the real world for a millenium in the hope of them gaining some maturity. And in every story we saw with him, he always ended up being generally fair to most. He isn't perfect (and who is?); is not above pettiness and anger for example. But his behaviour, from his POV, is perfectly acceptable, if not admirable. And there is so much about him we don't know and haven't seen to be able to judge his being accurately. For all we know and despite appearances, Titania might not be THAT more mature than him.

The list goes on and on. People (and I'm guilty of that as well) want easy answers where there are only complex explainations. I hated the concept of Anubis on my first viewing of "Grief" because it seemed at first that all death on Earth were and had always been caused by the guy. It just seemed so cheap, yet I accepted it at face value because it was what was shown at the time (and like I said, we tend to not question things seemingly presented as fact). Now, thanks to you, I know better, with what little you let on about death-gods and their connection to death and such. And just like there's no solid rule as to wether the Children can go against Oberon's law. It depends on all sorts of things, like intent, bending the law itself and people's words and so long and so forth.

In short, thanks for Ask Greg, I've gotten a better perspective on the complexity of the Gargoyles universe. It doesn't mean I'm no longer looking for easy answers, but I understand why you might reply that "there are no easy answers" or "it isn't that simple", because in your mind, that's really the case. Thanks again for your patience and dedication!

Punchinello writes...

Hi Mr. Weisman.

Have you ever noticed that anonymity cant disguise transparent stupidity?

I have.

The Cat writes...

I'm going to ramble and rant, so I hope you can forgive me if I confuse you or loose you along the way.

Response from Greg to Vanity's question that was posted January 6th 2002:

The notion that vengeance begets nothing more than a vicious cycle of further vengeance, is not only true but is if anything UNDERSTATED. Hardly exaggerate. One only has to look at a newspaper to see that the Montagues and Capulets of this world simply refuse to recognize this obvious, obvious FACT. It drives me insane. Your casual dismissal of the notion doesn't thrill me either. (Sorry.)

Okay, I'm going to ramble on this one a bit. Chew it up spit it out type deal.

Okay, what has always confused me about Demona is that she supposably hates humans. She wants to kill them and wipe them off the planet.

If that is true then why didn't she kill the Canmore brat when he was young and not any sort of threat to her. She could have gotten away with it to, to an extent of the imagination anyway, saying that she was protecting herself from attack and that she just happened to rake the young child's jugular vein with her talons would have worked rather nicely as an excuse. The thing is Demona knew, sort of, that Canmore would become vengeful. I mean, it does not take a rocket scientist to figure that out that this little bratty prince is going to go looking for revenge. He's so spoiled he still needs some one to wipe his butt! If that doesn't say"I'm going to go seeking revenge because somebody lower than me hurt my pride I don't know what does. She could have easily nipped it in the bud and there would no longer be any Hunters. Of course, you put them into the show to keep the plot rolling, but that really didn't work out did it. Of course not.

Also, Demona is suppose to be insane. She could have easily taken out the humans with her plague. Why tell Goliath that all he had to do was destroy the praying gargoyle and then she wouldn't spread the plague. Insane people are not known for having morals! What got me to was she wouldn't spread the plague because it would kill Angela. That made no sense. Demona has always tried to kill Goliath and the clan, saying that they've been corrupted by the humans. Now, the interesting thing is Angela has been the most corrupted. She was raised by humans and taught by humans, so Demona should have wanted to kill her to. Especially her. That would have definitely reinstated the fact that Demona was a villain.

Perhaps I'm looking into this too much, but Demona had the opportunity to kill a lot of people in the last thousand years and save herself a lot of heartache later. I highly doubt that anyone would defend the Canmore brat. I highly doubt anyone would have been capable of stopping her from killing the last hundred or so Hunters that came after her when Canmore didn't succeed.

However, I think I can answer this for myself I just want to know your thoughts on it.

Demona is not evil, per say, and she's hoping that the humans realize that they've treated her kind wrong and will repent, however, she doesn't see that time coming up anytime soon. She also saw that Macbeth's way of handling Canmore was better, not as fulfilling, but better. She, I suppose, was expecting Canmore to realize, later, that she had spared his life and that he might realize that it was out of the goodness of her heart not out of the fact that she couldn't kill him. Men are extremely short sighted in this fact: A woman can kill you! A beast can kill you! *shrugs* I've never understood how come it was so hard for some men to understand this.

Also, I think Demona's looking at the whole revenge thing a bit wrong. If I'm correct she's looking at it as though its her against The Hunter. She's not looking at it as though it is a war. That it is a campaign that she has to plan for. That she has to choose her ground. She needed to think things through!

I honestly have to wonder how many times she has planned out her schemes. Aside from the plague thingy, I don't think she's ever thought any of her things through to the very end. I'd have to say that she never thought about what torture Puck would put her through the night she stole The Mirror, if she had she probably wouldn't have stolen it. The one time she does plan for years upon years she hamstrings her own plan by telling Goliath how to defeat her. Stupid! Utterly stupid!

So, now I've ranted and I want to know am I right? Even to some degree.
Also, I'd like it if you read this. It was the main reason I began this rant. The book is titled: Oathblood and was written by Mercedes Lackey. One of my all time favorite authors. (I know you don't read fan fiction, quite understandable really, but I usually incorporate some aspect of her stuff into my fan fiction.) This book is a bunch of short stories pulled together and the last one is the one that inspired this rant, however, the whole book is good and I would suggest reading the other two that go with this one as well. Their titles are "Oathbound" and "Oathbreakers". They're good books and a must read for anybody because they go into details that most fantasy novels just don't go into. Especially, the ones published back in the 1980's when it was still "a man's world".

Punchinello writes...

<<Gargoyles as well can type on keyboards and relay thought. Lexington with very little experience in terms of years and could only practice at night, was able to punch a keyboard judging by the "clicking" sound of the keyboard at nearly 129 words per minute, without looking and locate Coldstone in MacBeth's mansion. Quite impressive really.>>

Breathtaking.

<<Yet his thoughts were in English.>>

No. They were not. Look. Mental concepts (especially highly abstract concepts) do not emerge from language. It works the other way around. Concepts are formed internally. We can use language to describe them but we don't need to. That's the important distinction.
Consider the acquisition of tool use. A tool you have never used before. Lets consider something like a construction crane. You see it's controls. By experimentation you might begin to discern the function of each control. But none of this is the product of some mental narrative. Pretend you've never seen a crane before. Maybe you're an aboriginal who has never seen western devices. Better yet, pretend you're Lexington. You're a gargoyle transplanted from 10th century Scotland into contemporary America. Lexington has never seen a lever. He's never seen a gas pedal or a start button. If you sit him in a crane and point to controls and tell him what each one _is called_ what do you think it would mean to him? Nothing. Simply calling something a gas pedal gives it no context. You have not imparted anything about it's function. Lexington has no concept that these structures in front of him have functional relationships with the larger device. However, if he experiments, he can begin to observe that if he pushes the lever forward, the crane rotates clockwise. If he pulls it backwards, the crane rotates counterclockwise. He can make associations now, and he can begin to detect patterns. He can anticipate that if moving a control in one direction corresponds to one function, then moving it in the other corresponds to the opposite function. This process of observation, association and anticipation is an example of conceptual thinking. In order to understand the crane, he would have needed to think about it in concepts. Not in English.

The corollary to the computer should be clear. Lexington simply could not have considered the novelty of the computer in words. He would have no words to describe it's properties, it's function or it's nature. If you were transplanted 1000 years into the future and someone handed you a solid metal sphere and told you to use it to write words, how would you contemplate the thing they handed you? It's surface is smooth. No obvious control mechanisms. No obvious surface features of any kind. So how the devil do you write with it? Speculating about it's functionality is a highly conceptual and visual process. If handwriting and typing are both lost arts in 1000 years, then you don't even have words to describe this thing's function.

Think about how Lexington would actually interpret a computer. You have a conceptual understanding of what a keyboard is, but Lexington doesn't. He's never seen a typewriter. He's never even seen a printing press. Do you suppose that when Lexington ponders this device, his thinking takes the form of mentally spoken instructions? Instructions to do what? To type? He has no concept of typing. He would be as mystified by this thing as you would be by the sphere.

However, if he can observe the device in use, and if he can experiment with it, then just as with the crane, he can begin to infer the functional relationships of the keys. He can form a mental picture of how this device works. At that point, he's certainly free to attribute words to the concepts if he want's to communicate them to someone else, but he doesn't need to. His ability to think about the device is not contingent upon his ability to describe those thoughts linguistically.

Proponents of the idea that thought is a purely linguistic process cling to this fantasy that thought is a perpetual little personal narration providing us with instructions. As though a little person were sitting on our shoulder whispering to us. Even if this ridiculous picture of the thought process were verifiable, consider that it would be useless as a medium for thought. Instructions mean nothing without concepts. Even simple concepts.

What about Bronx...

The point of my original thesis on sentience was that it is frequently treated in an uncritical and mentally lazy way. It enters popular culture, not as anything analytical, but as an imagined distinction between those we have to respect and those we don't have to treat with any kind of consideration.

So, is the mental world of Bronx (or Cagney) diminished by their not being able to articulate it? It should be evident that the notion their thought hinges upon language is ridiculous. Can we say they are sentient? Can we say they have the ability to observe, make inferences and anticipate? Can we say they are aware?

Of course. It's not just a matter of our having significant evidence for the ability of non-humans to have this type of mental experience. It's profoundly unreasonable to maintain that they are not aware and intelligent when we consider the emergence of intelligence in pre-history. It's often supposed that these mental abilities just suddenly appeared in homo sapiens, as if by magic, once we passed a certain threshold in our evolution. Nothing compels this feature to emerge, according to popular mythology. It just shows up unannounced. And it renders homo sapiens capable of language and tool use in a single second of evolutionary history.

Now, evolutionary psychologists have realized for a long time, that this picture of the development of intelligence was as silly as they come. Highly ordered structures like awareness and intellect don't just appear all at once. They emerge over time from more primitive systems. Intelligence evolved under the pressures that all species face in nature.

Awareness and thought did not emerge from nature as a means to get us into college or to allow us to write resumes. They emerged as a means to avoid large predators and distinguish things we can eat from things that can eat us. Living beings need to be able to distinguish between these two things in order to survive. The ability to contemplate concepts of things in our environment is just the natural product of species adapting to interact beneficially with it. All of our mental abilities are inherited from our earliest ancestors and were developed as an instrument for them to survive. The development of these faculties simply could never have delayed emerging until after we developed language.

If you consider it, you will discover that abstract concepts frequently defy linguistic expression, because our ability to think abstractly developed independently of language. You can't really describe a sophisticated mathematical concept or a work of music in words. They can only be contemplated conceptually. In fact very common things defy linguistic expression. Try this experiment.

Describe the color red.

The reason we cant is because the linguistic structure to describe it does not exist. It didn't emerge because it does not serve to benefit our species survival in any way. Yet you can picture red mentally. Or any number of colors. Doubtlessly, a variety of hues, which you might not even have a name for, exist in your mind. They exist as concepts. Mental pictures. And their inability to be defined linguistically does not diminish them. You can picture red. You can apply it to various forms. You can anticipate what would happen if you mixed it with another color. But you don't need language to do that. The imaginative process, the conceptual process, has nothing to do with language.

<<Eskimos have something like seven words that really just mean "snow". Yet an Eskimo thinks like an Eskimo and can judge the minor differences in the type of snow they see and to them one kind of snow is not "a" snow but a "d" snow and ect.. >>

This anecdote about Eskimo's having such a plurality of words for snow is often referred to in arguments for the dependence of thought on language. I don't know why. It does not appear to lend anything to this position. I guess the idea is that the way Eskimo's think about snow is supposed to be structurally different from the way english speakers think of snow. If they do, then it's not evident that it follows from their having more words for snow. In fact, I'm pretty sure there are at least a dozen words for snow in the english language. Flurry, Slush, Hardpack, Frost, Powder, IceLens, etc. And if we include all the descriptive lexemes that we count when we talk about the Eskimo words for snow, then there are probably dozens more in english.

This really is not an indicator that thought is contingent upon language. I can provide an analogous example though, which begins to demonstrate that thought takes place in the absence of language. Colors end up being a good example again, because they are such a large part of our visual world.

In Swedish, there are probably as many words to describe various colors as there are in English. Possibly more. I know they have a special word for light gray. Linguistic relativists would take the position that the Swedish or English must be thinking about colors in a way that is fundamentally denied to people of other cultures, who do not have all these words for colors.

There are many, such cultures. For instance, the Tiv language of New Guinea, where there are only two words for colors, equivalent to light and dark. A Swedish scientific study done years ago sought to test the theory that thought must be absent where language to describe something is also absent. However, when tested, it became apparent that Tiv speakers were able to recognize as many colors (and with the same facility) as Swedish speakers. This is certainly an indicator that thought exists without the benefit of language.

<<Luckily for us I suppose that as humans we all relatively think alike even with our differing way of thinking.>>

I find some arguments for deep structure very persuasive Vanity, but you treat the concept in a way which is very far removed from those arguments.

<<This allows for learning multiple languages each human no matter his language that language has the ability to "learn" or adapt to the use of another language and that is quite a remarkable thing. Almost too remarkable to be chance. >>

Has this become a prescription for theology now?