Probably Not Ms Austen

💭 A drama is, by its very nature, a most elaborate undertaking. It is not merely the actors who bring it to life, but the careful labour of many: the writing of the script, the performances themselves, the sets, the cinematography, the music, the direction, the production, and the delicate art of editing. For this reason, I cannot help but feel rather astonished when I see how readily some people appear here only to attack, directly and personally, a single artist who happens to belong to the cast.

There exists an old saying which observes that we offer to the world only what we carry within our hearts. If what one carries is the impulse to speak ill of others, then such behaviour reveals far more about the speaker than it ever could about the person being criticised.

Naturally, there is nothing improper in disliking a production. One may take issue with the way a story has been directed, feel that certain narrative choices were poorly handled, or even prefer the performances of some actors over others. It is only natural that certain portrayals may appear more convincing, or more graceful, in one’s eyes.

What seems rather less reasonable, however, is to disregard the many elements that together form a production, and to arrive here with no intention other than to direct hostility at a single performer. Stranger still is the tendency to quarrel with fellow viewers merely because they hold a different opinion — whether they happened to enjoy something you did not, or failed to admire what you personally hold dear.

One cannot help but observe how many individuals in this comment section seem burdened with a most unfortunate heaviness of spirit. It is rather a pity, for discussions of art might have been far more agreeable had they been guided by curiosity and civility, instead of such ill-tempered enthusiasm.

I must beg your pardon, but I should not trouble myself to read beyond your first line; for I was immediately struck by the extraordinary presumption — joined, I am afraid, with a most unfortunate lapse in judgement — in suggesting that I ought simply not to watch the drama at all. Pray tell, how is one expected to form an opinion of a thing, or speak honestly of one’s taste and appreciation, without first having seen it? The proposal is so curious that I hardly know whether to laugh at it or admire its boldness.

You appear rather fond of attributing meanings that were never expressed, perhaps because it is easier to contend with an imagined argument than with the one actually presented. I criticised no actor, nor did I venture any personal remark regarding the character or disposition of those in the cast. Yet you seem strangely affronted by the mere fact that this particular drama failed to please me. Such a delicate sensibility over so small a matter is, I confess, almost endearing — though not especially admirable.

One cannot help but suspect that a habit of so freely misrepresenting others’ words must make conversation with you rather a trial. Still, I wish you very well indeed, and sincerely hope that time may acquaint you with the agreeable art of engaging with opinions that are not your own. It is a most enlightening practice, I assure you. ✨

P.S. I shall be reporting you directly to the administrators. You appear to possess a rather troubling fondness for what can only be described as compulsive untruths. I rarely trouble myself to comment on any drama I watch, and this is, in fact, the first occasion on which I have written beneath a drama featuring Jisoo. Even so, I never once spoke of her in any negative manner.

Your conduct, however, suggests a character that is, at best, somewhat questionable. One might reasonably suppose that sensible and well-mannered people — those who are capable of respecting others’ liberty to hold different tastes — would do very well to keep their distance from such behaviour. Indeed, the thought of being obliged to live in close company with someone so careless with honesty is quite enough to make one shudder.

And if that other account should also belong to you, I sincerely hope the administrators of kisskh take the matter into consideration. Maintaining multiple profiles for the sole purpose of attacking others for expressing a harmless personal opinion is hardly the mark of admirable conduct. Truly, it is the sort of enterprise that reflects rather poorly on the person who undertakes it.

I am afraid there is a certain want of consistency in your replies, for at no point did I connect my remark to the question of the drama’s genre. The drama in which Kangjoon portrayed a human android, much like this one, belongs equally to the realm of fantasy; and one generally expects that fantasy will engage, in some measure, with dystopian threads of reality.

In any case, if you wish to continue this exchange of counter-arguments — and I assure you I have no objection to doing so — I should be grateful if you would address what has actually been said, rather than interpretations of points that were never advanced.

You are, of course, entirely entitled to your own tastes, and they may very well lead you to feel no fondness for that drama, or indeed for any other in which Kangjoon, or another actor, has appeared. Yet that does not alter my own conclusion that this particular drama, Boyfriend on Demand, is rather poor — at least in my estimation.

P.S. I cannot help but wonder — how many profiles do you maintain? There have already been dozens of newer comments which have pushed mine well down the page; yet I compose a reply to one profile and you respond within eight minutes. It is, I must confess, somewhat curious.

Here, I am afraid, you are rather mistaken. The matter does not depend upon “the sort of plot I happened to be seeking,” but rather upon the degree to which its development proves agreeable to me. It is, after all, what we commonly call a personal opinion. When a person is sufficiently thoughtful and self-possessed to have a character and tastes of their own, they are generally quite capable of forming one.

One cannot help but feel that the script, the direction, and the development of the characters do little to support the drama. The premise itself is rather promising; however, it appears not to have been employed to its full advantage, nor even to have made proper use of the talented cast assembled for it. I must confess, too, that I find myself somewhat at a loss to understand what might have persuaded Seo Kangjoon — or indeed Seo Inguk — to lend their names to a production of this sort. They are both accomplished and discerning actors, and one imagines they might easily have chosen projects more worthy of their abilities.

Had she truly mistaken the vision, there would have been no change in the earlier vision, which plainly showed Siyeon with a bright future. Her very actions literally altered the future at that moment, leaving her utterly bewildered, incapable of understanding how it had come to pass. Moreover, if she had indeed confused her first vision, and the fragments she saw belonged to Siyeon, it would make no sense that Wooseok was the one so sought after, rather than Siyeol, who was clearly equally talented. It makes still less sense that Wooseok should suffer the accident only after her actions had changed the future and prompted that later vision in the hospital chamber. And what of the scene with the burst ball, when Siyeol perceived that something was amiss and went after Wooseok? If Wooseok’s future had originally been simpler, while Siyeol’s was linked to greatness, no intervention would have been required. It is entirely beyond reason.

She arrived at her conclusion precisely as you suggest: founded upon her own interpretations, both as a nine-tailed fox and in accordance with the manner by which her gift of foresight is said to operate.

Yet even the plainest understanding must lead us to observe that, if the deity declared one child born to a simple life and the other to fame, and if Eunho’s vision consisted of fragments of Wooseok’s future, then Siyeol could not possibly have been the one destined for renown — not originally, at least. The contradiction, therefore, rests most squarely in the deity’s own pronouncement.

Eunho need not have entertained the slightest doubt regarding Siyeol’s prospects, nor solemnly assured him that prosperity was beyond his reach; for the instant she glimpsed Wooseok’s future, it became abundantly clear to us, the spectators, that Siyeol was not the one intended to rise to success. Indeed, was she not astonished — utterly at a loss — when she beheld fragments of Siyeol’s life as a celebrated footballer? Her amazement alone betrays the truth of the matter.

For she is no novice fox of a single day’s experience, but a creature seasoned by a lifetime of understanding how such visions unfold — glimpses, as she has ever maintained, of realities not to be altered at whim.

It was certainly implied, and she formed her conclusion upon the sight of those fragments which, as she herself professed, “once seen, are inevitable.” And what, pray, did she behold? Wooseok — quite unequivocally — in possession of fame.

Thus we find ourselves, yet again, at a most troublesome gap in the script. If Siyeol were in truth the one first intended for renown, whilst Wooseok was meant for the quieter and more ordinary life the deity described, then the whole stands in plain contradiction to Eunho’s own claim of perceiving an inescapable future. One cannot very well insist upon inevitability, only to have it altered at convenience.

My remark was made in full consideration of what the deity proclaimed. Yet I cannot be certain you recollect that, when Eunho first beheld Siyeol’s future, it revealed a life far from fortunate for him, whilst Wooseok, in delightful contrast, was plainly destined for success.

I cannot, for the life of me, contrive to overlook this glaring hole in the plot. We are asked to believe that Eunho must stab Siyeol in order to restore their fated courses, as though Siyeol’s destiny had not already been exchanged with Wooseok’s at the outset.

For was it not Wooseok who was originally meant for fame? By that very logic, the peril of hovering betwixt life and death must have belonged to Wooseok from the beginning, and not to Siyeol at all. The argument defeats itself most obligingly.

To suggest that such stories might encourage delusion in a few overzealous admirers, is much like arguing that a horror film would turn its audience into murderers. A sick mind will seize upon anything as an excuse; fiction is hardly to blame. One need only recall Let Me Be Your Knight, Miracle, and the like — all built upon the notion of a fan, or an ordinary person, ending up with an idol — and yet no great alarm is raised over them. 🫩

How diverting! That my prose, long nourished by Jane Austen and countless hours of reading, should be mistaken for a machine’s invention — surely a charming reflection on those who cannot string a thought together without one. 😅

Do be so good as to report anyone whose behaviour in this comment thread strays so far from the bounds of decency. I should welcome the intervention of a moderator—indeed, it would be a relief—for your conduct here has been nothing short of unpleasant and entirely uncalled for.

Even here? Am I to have no peace, no liberty to write a review without someone taking it upon themselves to cast judgement and attempt to diminish me? What precisely have I done to deserve such treatment? Is it the manner in which I write? The fluency of my English? I do not know you, nor have I ever wronged you. Have you taken offence simply because you happened to dislike what I wrote?

I cannot help but wonder—does the manner in which I write provoke you? Is it the fluency of my English that sits so poorly with you? We are strangers; I’ve done nothing to you. Is your persistence merely because you disliked what I wrote? Must you go out of your way to belittle me over it?

Your persistence in belittling a stranger—one whom you know nothing of—is unkind in the extreme. Allow me, then, to provide a little context. I began learning English at the age of six. I grew up reading countless books in the language—Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and, of course, the works of Miss Jane Austen, who has had a profound influence on me. I attended a language course for nine years, and over time, English became my second language—as familiar and natural to me as my first. The way I speak and write is not some affectation; it is the result of years of earnest engagement with the language and the culture.

Might it be this manner of expression that offended your sensibilities? Was the cadence of my phrasing sufficient to provoke derision? For my part, I have long been enamoured with English culture—Miss Austen’s novels being the cornerstone of my imagination, Doctor Who my early fascination, and the memoirs of English authors as beloved to me as sweets.

If that has unsettled you, if that alone was enough to warrant mockery, then I must question what, precisely, it is you are hoping to accomplish.

So you see, it is not at all pleasant to be made a target over something so personal. You misrepresent me, mock what you do not understand, and attempt to make me feel small—all for reasons known only to yourself.

I must ask that you stop.

I neglected to block you earlier, but shall do so without delay. I sincerely hope that, in time, you will come to reflect upon your conduct and perhaps discover that gentleness costs you nothing. You are not obliged to like me, nor anything I enjoy—but that does not entitle you to treat me, or anyone else, with disdain.

Good day.

Do pay it no mind. Such a person is thoroughly disagreeable, possessing not the least to offer by way of sense or civility, and conducting themselves in a manner most unbecoming. It is plain to see their behaviour is quite deliberate, for one imagines they derive some satisfaction from the attention it affords them.

Yet persons of good character do not derive pleasure from being noticed in such a fashion. Therefore, the wisest and most dignified course is to offer no response at all. When the jester is met with no applause and finds himself before no audience, he is revealed for what he truly is—merely a figure in paint and costume, straining to perform a tiresome act no one cares to witness.

I am sincerely obliged for your defence—it was most kind—but I assure you, such a creature is scarcely deserving of the least attention.

I hold little regard for persons such as yourself—those who seek out others with unkind intent, aiming not but to cause distress. Yet, as the old adage wisely observes, ‘we give only that which fills the heart.’ A most revealing truth, indeed.

I shall now take the step of blocking you, for I’ve neither patience nor inclination to endure your ill-humour each time you choose to trouble me without provocation. See what an unpleasant circumstance you have authored—and it would seem you behave thus with others too.

Do be so good as to keep your distance. I should be much obliged.

Indeed, how amusing that one so determined to detect artificiality in others should unwittingly betray it in himself. Your reply—though draped in the trappings of wit and adorned with an air of antiquated flourish—is, I daresay, less a product of spontaneous intellect than of some machine's eager assistance.

Were it not for the conspicuous aroma of ChatGPT's rhetorical stylings—the cadence, the syntactic indulgence, the oh-so-familiar verbosity—I might have believed you capable of such theatrical derision unaided. Alas, your attempt to accuse another of pretension merely reflects your own.

And do forgive me, but if one is to mimic the stylings of British prose, one ought at least to employ correct usage: 'mayhap' is not a contraction to be tossed so carelessly, and 'doth' and 'thy' require grammatical precision, not random flourish. One does not, after all, simply pepper a sentence with Shakespearean relics and call it eloquence.

How curious that in your desperate effort to sound superior, you have merely proven the very thing you sought to mock 🙂

Pray, forgive the presumption, but not all are resigned to intellectual idleness. Some among us still possess the inclination to read, the capacity to think, and the courage to write unaided by machine or malice. I lament, most sincerely, if such qualities lie beyond your present reach.

When the other party perishes, the line is at an end.

Since you have chosen to descend upon the comments section with such officious hauteur and a disposition most unpleasant, one must implore you — if you are to posture as an arbiter of conduct — to at least exercise consistency, and refrain from hypocrisy. For if your vexation is aroused by but a single comment, yet you elect to disregard others of identical attitude, then your reprimand appears not as a defence of principle, but rather as the plaintive outburst of a soul soured by bitterness, eager to provoke conflict in the most trivial of settings.

Can you read, sir or madam? Then do so. I entreat you to cast your eye upon the inscription at the head of this very section: 'kisskh is a space for respectful and thoughtful discussion.' What a boon it would be were you to temper your commands with a word of 'please,' and deliver them with a modicum of grace. You must understand — not all who dwell here are acquainted with your particular tastes, nor with the rules of the platform.

But do proceed — assume, I pray, the familiar posture of those of limited sensibility and narrow mind, and utter, with theatrical exasperation, that most tiresome refrain: 'Do you truly expect me to read all of that? 🙄' — as pitiable in its delivery as it is predictable in its nature.

Such is the way of envy and poor ambition—they sour the mind and give rise to false smiles and spiteful hearts. One cannot act with honesty when one’s thoughts are so ill-tempered.