Good omens lgbt
I'm just going to say it: I liked the Good Omens miniseries more than the novel. It's sacrilege among Book Folks, my people, to acknowledge this, but sometimes recasting an elderly story into a new medium improves the experience. (Remember Legally Blonde, the Amanda Brown novel? Of course you don't.) There are several reasons why I preferred the show, but mostly it's because the novel didn't acquire Aziraphale and Crowley's queer-as-hell relationship — unarguably the top part — as the main focus.
So when I state Good Omens the show is "better" than Good Omens the book, what I mean is, it's gayer.
Good Omens isn't unique in its having fans who read queerness into the message. Fandoms have been doing this for years: Supernatural immediately comes to thought, as does The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. What does make Good Omens unique is that this fan-created gay love story — a fairy tale for the complete of the nature — pretty much came true when the story was adapted from the page to the screen.
Consider the common one-sentence summary of the miniseries, which goes like this: In
Good Omens, Queerbaiting And Death Of The Author - Quill’s Scribbles
I confess this is the most reluctant I’ve ever been to write a Scribble. When this topic came up, I remember just groaning and putting my chief in my hands because I knew that, due to the nature of what I tend to write about on this blog and the proof that I’m an out and out biromantic demisexual queerbo, people would be asking me to contribute to the discourse. And honestly I don’t particularly want to. I don’t get to enjoy many films and TV shows anymore thanks to the industry doing their very best to ruin everything they touch. Can’t I just watch one excellent TV show without creature dragged into some ideological battle?
Okay. Guess I can’t really put this off any longer.
On the 31st May, the long awaited adaptation of Good Omens was released on Amazon Video. I thought it was quite good. Not perfect. There are some things I could criticise, but overall it was a worthy adaptation of the source material and it was very enjoyable to watch. And that seems to be the general consensus with both critics a
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The fact that Good Omens S2 was SO QUEER.
Not Just Maggie and Nina (and Lindsey)
Not just Aziraphale and Crowley
Not even just Gabriel and Beelzebub (who is NB)
But the magician shopkeeper and his trans/NB spouse who wore a fancy early 19th century dress to the ball.
Job's son who was flirting with Aziraphale (hilariously played by Ty Tennant giving Michael Sheen heart eyes in front of his dad lmao)
Even the tough macho bloke in Scotland that Aziraphale borrows the phone from - using it for "Grindr".
Plus of course Michael, Uriel, Muriel, and Dagon also all being non binary/gender queer characters.
With all this, there was no homophobia, no one batted an eyelid at any characters sexualities, sexuality wasn't even brought up, characters just are who they are and fancy who they like. Its a non issue in the Travel universe.
AKA my favourite type of queer representation. The same type found in The Sandman (show not comic).
And whilst there was plenty of drama and not everyone gets a joyful queer ending (YET) there was no queer tra
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the way the books we read shape us and, even in fantastical settings, give us windows into possibilities for kind and working through our own challenges. I ponder that’s one of the most meaningful things a story can do, especially for those who touch they’ve been put in unbearable circumstances. As chaplain Vanessa Zoltan writes in her memoir Praying with Jane Eyre: Reflections on Reading as a Consecrated Practice, “A willingness to survive is about believing in the possibility of a better future. Survival is about hope.”
Good Omens, the apocalyptic satire novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, is one of those books for me. It came into my life when I was at a crossroads that I didn’t comprehend how to pass. I was a college scholar who had recently reach out as a trans person man, trying to reconcile my religious upbringing and search for spiritual interpretation with my queerness. I couldn’t get rid of either; they were essential parts of me. Yet bringing them together seemed impossible.
I attended BYU, a Mormon university in Northern Utah in the