#point is. it's good. go read it. the foreshadowing and twists are twisty and the art is satisfying

[hey-heigo]

"beneath the trees where nobody sees" is doing cocomelon shit to me

[tbg041397]

Gallant

Written by V.E. Schwab

Narrated by Julian Rhind-Tutt

Genre or category

Horror

Target Age Group

13-17 years ; 8th-9th grade

Summary

All Olivia Prior has of her mother is a journal of half-mad entries warning her to never go to Gallant. However, it seems that Gallant is the only possibility she has of finding a home, a family, and some answers. Olivia must learn the secrets of Gallant and the immense burden that it has placed on the Prior family to keep the doors between life and death closed. 

Justification

Choosing Gallant was both a continuation of my goal to read all of the Arkansas Teen Choice nominees for the year and also a part of my effort to read outside of my typical genre. Horror is not typically a genre that I pick up naturally, but I have noticed that it is a genre that is checked out frequently in my library. The teens that I work with are all very into the spooky, twistiness of horror books, and I wanted to understand that better. Gallant is somewhat of a middle ground. It’s horror for younger teens and dips its toes into the genre tropes and structure without becoming overly reliant on shock value. I think this book is a good entry point for adults trying to understand the more grim preferences of their teens. 

Evaluation

For this review, I will be evaluating the pacing, the ending, and the audiobook format.

Pacing

The pacing of Gallant was a little odd though it had a major payoff in the end. The beginning of the book, where readers are learning about the characters and setting, lasts for about half the book. Because parts one through three have the meticulous job of setting up the twists and turns at the end, it moves a little slower and can feel detail-heavy in places. Schwab does a wonderful job of cutting through the bogginess of the beginning by including small passages between characters that step out of the building of the plot and straight into the thick of it. Schwab uses both excerpts from Olivia’s mother’s diary and small passages from the point of view of the “Master” to weave chapters together and give the readers enough foreshadowing to keep them reading. The pacing increases tremendously after the first half, and the plot is only successful because it was so carefully crafted in the beginning. While the slowness of the first half could turn away reluctant readers, Schwab did effectively bait the more patient reader with just enough tension to carry them through the awkward pacing. 

Ending

The ending of the story matches perfectly with the tone and genre of Gallant. Gallant lies somewhere between a dark fantasy and a horror book, and while it is interesting has a solemn  and grave undertone to it. The ending, therefore, needed to match the atmosphere that it had created; the ending is not what I would consider satisfying or complete, but that is the point. To end the book with everything saved and perfect would be a disservice to the balance that Schwab establishes in the story. The ending gives the feeling that things are better than before, but only for a while. Teen readers will appreciate the open-endedness of the conclusion and feel a sense of uneasy, temporary resolution that honors the horror genre that Gallant experiments with. The ending would not work in any other book, but it is the only ending that works for this book, and Schwab executed a non-ending masterfully. 

Audiobook Format

This is the book that I chose to listen to as an audiobook, though in total transparency I followed along in the physical book quite a bit in the beginning. In the case of this book, the narration of the audiobook is an excellent supplement to the novel but struggles to perfectly replace the physical copy. While readers, or listeners, can follow the plot of the story through the audiobook version, they do miss out on some key details that make the book unique. For example, the physical book has many illustrations beginning and ending chapters, however, they are not just there to add to the aesthetic. We learn that these drawings are one side of the conversation between two characters, and without viewing the art in the book, listeners only experience one half of the conversation. The line between the present action and the journal entries are also a little blurry without the added visuals of the book. That is not to say that the audiobook does not add something to the story that the novel version does not. The intensity of the narrator’s voice adds heightened tension to the plot and creates an eerie atmosphere that a reader might not create on their own. While the audiobook can stand alone it does not feel as complete and fluid as the physical book does, which is something I normally don’t see in audiobooks. 

References

Schwab, V.E. (2022). Gallant. Greenwillow Books.

Schwab, V.E. (2022). Gallant. (J. Rhind-Tutt, Narr.) [audiobook]. Greenwillow Books.

[badbookopinions]

Return of the Thief - Queen’s Thief #6, Megan Whalen Turner

It’s so good, you guys. No spoilers for major plot points below the cut, but I do mention stuff that was kept secret like the narrator and new characters, so be warned for spoilers.

The culmination of one of the greatest SFF series of the 21st century - I’m not even a little bit exaggerating - is finally here, as is the long-awaited war with the Mede Empire. Can Eugenides and his buddies come up with a plan to stop them?

Obviously. It’s Gen.

Turner is so NICE to us this book - especially in the first half, there are so many conversations and jokes that are meant just to have fun, with little to no plot significance. And I ate them up - I love these characters and this is the last time I’ll see them, so I was so thrilled to have enjoyable scenes of them as well. It never crosses the line into sacrificing the plot.

I had to go to bed in the middle of reading this and then woke up at two to stare at the ceiling for an hour trying to figure out how it was all going to work out and what the twist was, because it was so suspenseful and had me so excited I genuinely could not sleep.

Characters are just - perfect. Turner advances their character arcs while still keeping them true to the people we love. 

Speaking of people I love, the new narrator, Pheris, is fantastic. He’s so clever and kind and I want to squish his cheeks because he’s ~10-15 and adorable. 

Three groups of people who will be pleased by this book: math nerds, gay people, and people who go crazy about the concept of deification and stories. Pheris is an adorable math nerd and the scenes where he’s being tutored are fantastic. The diversity massively increases in this one, with casual queer representation all over the place (and of course a large portion of the characters are people of colour, and have been since the 90s when this was a very impressive and progressive thing). And the themes of deification and stories? They are intense and beautiful.

Plot: so good. I’m not going to risk saying anything else. Be assured that the twists are twisty and the tricks are tricky.

Characters: so so good. Every single time one of them showed up I started grinning like an idiot. At one point when Costis appeared I had to put the book down and go tell my sister, I was so excited. And Pheris jumped the list to one of my favourite characters so quickly. Everyone has a moment to shine, everyone's arcs went to interesting and natural conclusions, and our main six (now main seven!) characters are just - so good.

Setting: so many borders were filled in this book! This series has always been special for the Byzantine vibes that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s immaculately described and researched, and time periods and concepts are blended so beautifully. But we also got to learn about the Greater Powers of the Continent this book, as well as more about the cultures of the Peninsula, and it was all so interesting. 

Prose: it is funny! It is subtle! There is banter! Seriously, so much banter, and I was having so much fun. Smarter people than me will dissect the foreshadowing later, so I’m just going to say the gut-punch moments hit hard. 

Diversity rating: very very good. 

Bonus: look under the cast of characters to see Turner lowkey call Relius a ho. 

[tlbodine]

Twisty Turns and Horror

“Every story ever told can be broken down into three parts. The beginning. The middle. And the twist.”  — Jack Black as RL Stine in Goosebumps

I want to talk about twists. 

Specifically, I want to talk about two primary types of twists in the horror genre, and how and when each can be employed -- and the pitfalls of both. 

But first, a caveat: What do I mean when I say “twist”? 

A plot twist occurs when the audience’s expectations are subverted. 

Based on the existing information in a storyline, a reader or viewer expects a certain outcome. A twist occurs when something unexpected happens instead. But a twist is not a mystery. A mystery presents a question -- who did it? how? what happened? -- and then challenges the audience to figure it out before the characters involved. A good mystery requires you to lay down foreshadowing and set up all of the clues, providing red herrings as necessary to distract the audience, before tying it all up at the end with a neat bow. 

A twist, on the other hand, does not necessarily require such setup and foreshadowing. And, indeed, some of the very best twists in the genre do away with such things entirely. 

So with that out of the way, let’s talk about the two types of horror twists -- what I’ll refer to as The Hitchcock Twist and The Shyamalan Twist. 

By nature of the subject matter, this will be spoiler-heavy, so follow under the cut!

Alfred Hitchcock and M. Night Shyamlan are two directors who made their careers from creating movies with a twist. Although plenty of other horror directors employ the same techniques, the careers of Hitchcock and Shyamalan are defined by twists in a way others are not. 

But -- however much he may try to emulate him with his signature on-screen cameos -- Shyamalan trades in a very different type of twist than Hitchcock. Taken at a plot level, the two approaches to storytelling are actually completely opposite. 

A Shyamalan Twist Occurs at the End, Reinterpreting Everything That Came Before 

Let’s briefly review Shyamalan’s twists to see what they have in common, shall we? 

The most famous -- in The Sixth Sense, we discover at the end that the character played by Bruce Willis has actually been dead the entire time, and that he is just another of the ghosts the little boy can see. 

In The Village, we learn that what appears to be a rural pioneer settlement is in fact a modern commune that’s been lost to history for a couple generations, and the monsters are manufactured as a way to keep the inhabitants in line (and from escaping). 

In Unbreakable, we discover that the story isn’t just the hero origin story for Bruce Willis’s character, but the origin story for the villain Mr. Glass -- who was responsible for the accident that set the hero on his journey in the first place. 

In The Visit, we find out that the kids haven’t been staying with their grandparents at all, but rather with a pair of escaped and murderous mental patients. 

What do all of these have in common? The twist is revealed at the climax of the film, and it acts to completely reinterpret the events that came before it. You’re left leaving the theater to think about everything that came before the twist, and try to find a way to piece it all together. All of your expectations up to the climax have been subverted, and you’re left to do the work of figuring out how to make sense of what you’ve seen (or not, of course - perhaps you leave the theater without ever thinking about it again). 

Done well, this twist can be incredibly powerful because it invites interaction from the audience even after the story is finished. The twist introduces new questions that it doesn’t answer, and conversation can spring up around finding solutions for it -- either within the text itself, or contemplating it in a larger context. Done well, a Shyamalan twist can lead the audience toward introspection and create a haunting effect. 

Done poorly, of course, it can feel cheap, cheesy, unearned, or just downright stupid. That’s the greatest risk of the Shyamalan twist -- it can leave the audience thinking, “Who cares?” 

Of course, Shyamalan didn’t invent this sort of twist -- it’s just what he’s best known for -- and there are tons of other examples out in the wild. Here are a few to consider: 

The Twilight Zone -- When I’ve delivered this talk before (if you can call “rambling about movies to my coworker” a talk), it’s been pointed out that this twist was really codified first by The Twilight Zone, and I should really call it a Serling twist. Well, I’m not doing that for two reasons. One, because Serling never tried to draw a direct parallel between himself and Hitchcock, so Shyamalan is really inviting himself to this discussion. Two, because The Twilight Zone uses the formula a little bit differently. 

First, not every Twilight Zone episode had a twist ending (although the most famous ones did, probably for the reason I mention above -- people like to talk about surprise endings, and they stick in the memory). But more importantly, the twists were the story. The sci-fi/horror shorts were structured like jokes where the twist was the punchline, often crafted to deliver a particular message or parable. Most of the episode existed to set up the twist, with little time spent on extraneous plot and character development. Thus, Twilight Zone stories are more clever than shocking. Still, they are a treasure trove of storytelling to study, and they make for a wonderful compare/contrast with Shyamalan’s films. 

Other notable Shyamalan-style twists: 

Fight Club, where we learn that Tyler Durden is not real, but rather the alter-ego of the seemingly meek and unnamed narrator. 

Memento, where we learn that the film’s core mystery has been solved numerous times, only to be forgotten -- and that the main character is being manipulated every step of the way. 

Orphan, where we learn that the titular orphan with homicidal tendencies is in fact a grown woman with a peculiar form of dwarfism who is manipulating the families who adopt her. (the movie is better than that plot synopsis makes it sound, I promise)

In Hide and Seek, we learn that the little girl’s evil imaginary friend (at times implied to be a ghost) is in fact her father’s alternate personality. 

There are, of course, lots more. There are also some near-misses. For example, despite its bleak “gotcha”, the ending of The Mist -- where the main character mercifully kills his fellow survivors before running out of bullets to use on himself, only to find that help was just around the corner -- doesn’t quite count. It’s a shocking and heart-wrenching twist, but it doesn’t fully redefine the film that came before it. 

Pros to the Shyamalan Twist: 

Gives your audience something to think about long after they walk away, generating discussion and hopefully that haunted “I need a minute” feeling to process the story.

Invites a second watch/read in order to pick up the clues and pieces and see how the story unfolds differently after you know the ending.

Cons to the Shyamalan Twist: 

Can feel cheap or un-earned if the twist makes the events of the film no longer seem to matter (eg, “it was all a dream!”) 

Often ends up relying on ableist mental health tropes (split personality, escaped lunatic, etc etc.), so please do something new with it 

Can completely fall apart if the ending is spoiled ahead of time, making it difficult to succeed in a post-internet environment. 

All in all, the Shyamalan Twist can be a powerful storytelling tool, but it can also fall flat on its face. The thing that will make it succeed is if the other elements of the story, especially the characters, are compelling enough on their own to make the reader want to know more. 

A Hitchcock Twist occurs early in the film and changes the rules of what you’re watching

A primary characteristic of the Hitchcock twist is that it happens early in the story -- about 1/3rd to 1/2 of the of the way through. It sets up a premise, invites you to get invested in the characters and their situation, and then pulls the rug out from under you by dramatically changing the movie into a different type of story altogether. 

For example: 

In Psycho, the first 47 minutes of the 109-minute movie are all about Marion Crane, a woman who steals money from her job and skips town before ending up at a seedy roadside motel. These 47 minutes spend a lot of time building Marion’s character and setting up what could be a crime thriller...until she is abruptly and violently murdered, and the narrative shifts over to the killer. 

In The Birds, a socialite and a lawyer spend almost half the movie developing a relationship, from their meet-cute to the ensuing quasi-romantic stalking, the weekend getaway, meeting the locals, befriending the family, attending a party. It honestly feels like a romance (with a few creepy details) right up until a flock of birds starts attacking party-goers. 

In Vertigo, the main character is a retired police officer turned private investigator who is hired to spy on a man’s wife, only to fall in love with her, a situation made complicated by her apparent madness and/or possession by a dead ancestor. This madness drives her to commit suicide. Except then the movie keeps going, and we discover that everything up to that point (2/3rds of the film) was actually a complex setup to disguise a murder...a revelation that honestly takes a backseat to Scottie’s newfangled, creepy obsession with the not-actually-dead girl of his dreams, which then ends in a new murder. It’s a convoluted story that’s much easier to watch than to explain, but it’s a wild ride from beginning to end. 

What do all of these Hitchcock films have in common? They set up one storyline, spending lots of time developing the characters and progressing the plot, only to take an extremely sharp turn. Some might argue that Hitchcock thrillers are just very slow burn, taking their time to luxuriously build up to a crescendo, but I think it goes deeper than that -- some of these movies abruptly change genre. 

In no instance is this as self-evident as in The Birds. The effect of watching it is akin to what might happen if you made a Lifetime movie and then halfway through the zombie apocalypse just happened to take place. It’s brilliant, and it replicates the feeling of real life horror -- where bad things happen suddenly and unexpectedly to ruin your everyday life -- better than any other storytelling device. 

Hitchcock is the master of this type of plot, but there are other stories that employ a similar technique: 

Gone Girl introduces us to a man whose wife has gone missing, and spends a lot of time building up their relationship history and casting doubt on him, so that we begin to suspect that he’s a murderer...only to learn, quite abruptly, that not only is his wife still alive, but she’s the one who set this whole thing up. It’s masterfully done, and the twist occurs about halfway through, giving us plenty of opportunity to see the marriage turn into a real cat-and-mouse game between two equally awful people. 

You’re Next sets up a pretty standard home invasion premise, but it goes sideways when one of the guests begins to fight back. Brilliantly, this is a twist not just for us but for the people in the film -- it’s a turn of events that ruins the evil scheme, where the whole invasion was a setup and many fewer people were meant to die. 

Hereditary lays down all the foundation for the little girl to be supernaturally creepy, the driver of whatever badness the film has in store...right up to the moment of her death. (The film then double-helixes with a Shyamalan twist ending, just for good measure) 

Million Dollar Baby seems at the outset to be an underdog sports film, right up to the point where it actually becomes a treatise on assisted suicide (among other things). 

Interestingly, the Hitchcock Twist finds a home in dramas as much or perhaps more often than in mainstream horror. The reason for this is probably because the twist demands strong characterization, and that sort of lengthy, nuanced character study isn’t as common in genre fiction. This, by extension, means that genre stories that do successfully deliver this kind of twist are often better received by mainstream critics. 

For example, look at Game of Thrones. Ned Stark’s death is absolutely a Hitchcock Twist. At the outset, an audience has certain expectations for how an epic fantasy is supposed to play out -- and brutally killing the main character and ripping apart his family as a “reward” for acting noble is definitely not it. This subversion of expectations is one of many reasons the story resonates so far beyond the usual bounds of fantasy fandom. 

Pros to the Hitchcock Twist: 

Done well, it can make your story feel more literary and/or transgressive, providing cross-genre appeal for audiences who might not normally see or respect your type of work. 

It keeps the audience on their toes by subverting their most crucial expectations; once you pull the rug out from under them, anything can happen! 

Cons to the Hitchcock Twist: 

It can lose the trust of your audience, who may not want to follow you around the bend and might feel betrayed or confused by the sudden shift in expectations. 

It’s tough to market because there is almost nothing you can say about the story that will appeal to the target audience without also giving away the twist. 

It requires a lot of skill with characterization to make up for the slower pace of the plot. 

If there’s one thing that both Hitchcock and Shyamalan twists have in common -- and one take-away I want you to keep -- it’s that successful twists rely on strong characterization. You absolutely must write good, believable, compelling characters first and foremost, or the audience isn’t going to care what happens to them, no matter how twisty those events may be. 

And one final caveat: You can really only afford a couple of major twists per story. You can double up, offering both a Hitchcock and a Shyamalan twist in a single story (see above re: Hereditary), but it’s extremely tough to pull off and can make your audience confused and even downright angry if you fail. 

What are your favorite movie twists? Reblog and tell me all about them! 

And if you enjoy this content, please consider leaving a tip in my tip jar:  Ko-fi.com/A57355UN

[rhegar]

Ice Dragon (Part 1): Why Jon Snow Will Ride Wight!Viserion

A few things before I start...

1. All credits go to @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly​ and @joannalannister​ for coming up with the theory that Jon will ride Viserion. It’s a really interesting and convincing theory that you can read here. This theory is just a buildup on that theory in light of the recent development in which Viserion turned into a wight.

2. For reasons that I will clarify, I think that this theory doesn’t just go for the show, but for the books as well (in fact, seeing as the books are more likely to follow logic and continuity, I feel like it goes for the books more as it feels more complicated than something the showmakers would think of.)

Obviously, if you continue, you’re in for spoilers of anything and everything that has happened on the books and show so far.

1. The Ice Dragon. (or, how does this theory play out in the books?)

Well, in the books, we have too many references to an ice dragon for it to be a coincidence. For instance, there’s a constellation actually named the Ice Dragon. It is mentioned on many occasions, especially in POVs of northern characters.

"Osha," Bran asked as they crossed the yard. "Do you know the way north? To the Wall and . . . and even past?"

"The way's easy. Look for the Ice Dragon, and chase the blue star in the rider's eye." She backed through a door and started up the winding steps.

"And there are still giants there, and . . . the rest . . . the Others, and the children of the forest too?" - A Clash of Kings, Bran V

An Ice Dragon also plays into the stories of Old Nan (the majority of which we know shed some light on events from the past and foreshadow the possible future.

A sudden gust of wind set Edd's cloak to flapping noisily. "Best go down, m'lord. This wind's like to push us off the Wall, and I never did learn the knack of flying.

"They rode the winch lift back to the ground. The wind was gusting, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan had told when Jon was a boy. The heavy cage was swaying. From time to time it scraped against the Wall, starting small crystalline showers of ice that sparkled in the sunlight as they fell, like shards of broken glass. - A Dance with Dragons, Jon VII

Not only that, but some characters also happen to think of ice dragons a lot, making a lot of similes related to ice dragons. In particular, Jon.

Jon nodded weakly. The door swung open. Pyp led them in, followed by Clydas and the lantern. It was all Jon could do to keep up with Maester Aemon. The ice pressed close around them, and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, the weight of the Wall above his head. It felt like walking down the gullet of an ice dragon. The tunnel took a twist, and then another. Pyp unlocked a second iron gate. They walked farther, turned again, and saw light ahead, faint and pale through the ice. That's bad, Jon knew at once. That's very bad. - A Storm of Swords, Jon VIII

The road beneath the Wall was as dark and cold as the belly of an ice dragon and as twisty as a serpent. Dolorous Edd led them through with a torch in hand. Mully had the keys for the three gates, where bars of black iron as thick as a man's arm closed off the passage. Spearmen at each gate knuckled their foreheads at Jon Snow but stared openly at Val and her garron. - A Dance with Dragons, Jon VIII

Isn’t an ice dragon a strange thing to constantly be in the subconscious of the people like that? That’s like naming a constellation The Swimming Bird, or The Vegetarian Lion. It’s a strange contradiction; a paradox. To me, the phrase “ice dragon” is comparable to a “blue flower grew from a chunk in a wall of ice”... it’s not something that sounds regular in the flow of speech; it’s put there for a purpose. Why would such a thing be constantly suggested if it’s not foreshadowing something in the future?

Some have theorized that said ice dragon is actually the wall itself. Personally, I find that interesting, but logistically challenging and difficult to take place. If the entire wall was a dragon, that thing would be hopeless to defeat. It would be hundreds of times the size of Balerion himself. What I personally think is that it’s inevitable that one of Daenerys’ dragons will meet its demise in the books; it’s just inevitable plot-wise. No one and nothing is unbeatable, and to show us that, George will have to take out some people and creatures that we thought of as higher-than-life, i.e. the dragons.

Yes, this is one of the cases (like R+L=J, or the wall eventually coming down) where I think the showmakers stuck to the scenario that they know will happen in the books. A dragon will eventually be killed in the books, and my money’s on Viserion (for reasons that will become clear later, but even now, I feel like just changing the dragon that dies from Viserion to Rhaegal isn’t a change that the showmakers would make. It doesn’t make that big of a difference for them.)

However, because of the whole “three heads of the dragon” thing, I personally don’t believe that said dragon will stay dead. I believe it will be turned into the “dark side” either by Euron  (who now serves the others) using the Horn of Joramun, or the Night King himself, therefore becoming the Ice Dragon; a dragon that, if not literally made of ice, it fights on the side of ice, thus going against what it inherently is: A dragon; fire-made flesh.

2. Fire-Made Flesh

From the very beginning, the magical aspect of the story revolved around the conflict between two magical forces in the universe: Ice and Fire. One of them is portrayed as inherently bad (ice) and the other is portrayed as potentially good, but also volatile and can be quite destructive depending on who’s in control of it (fire.) And this makes sense; ice brings the cold and death and nothing else (please don’t send me asks about refrigerators) but fire can bring warmth and safety (if you think about it in a more primal sense that makes sense in ASOIAF, you can use fire to scare away predators) but needless to say, fire can also be highly destructive.

When it comes to dragons vs. white walkers, each of them belongs exclusively to one of those two forces. Dragons are described as “fire-made flesh”; they are able, against all laws of physics, to breathe fire. And allegedly, fire cannot kill a dragon.

White walkers bring the cold, frost, death, and they reanimate the dead to do their bidding; however, the only thing that kills them is fire. So, we see that each of the two factors does something exclusive to it and magical; fire magic, and ice magic.

Now; the question is: Can a dragon turn into an undead being animated by ice magic? Wouldn’t that be inherently against its nature?

Again, like previously expressed in the previous point, an “ice dragon” is a paradox. It’s the same thing as an other that breathes fire. And yes, you can kill a dragon and turn it into a wight, technically, and you can’t make an other breathe fire, but because of how that state is contradictory to the dragon’s very existence... would it be a complete state?

The reason why the wights are what they are is because they’re unintelligent. They lose their mind, personality, sense, and become nothing but zombies animated by ice. But a dragon... does it get to keep its intelligence as a wight and serve (whoever) as an independent force that decides what to do? Yes it changes “side”, but does it completely lose its conscious?

AsoIaF dragons are intelligent. - George R. R. Martin (source)

Personally, I believe that a dragon can never fully become what a wight is. It will never only obey the Night King, especially not above its chosen rider. Because before being a wight, it is first and foremost a dragon. So, for the time being, I want you not to think of Viserion as an undead wight that has no control of what it’s doing, but as an Other!dragon; a monster moved by ice that still has a will and intelligence, and that still gets to choose who its rider will be. And I believe that, because Viserion still has his free will, this rider can be a living human.

For the time being, Viserion will do the night king’s bidding, perhaps destroying the wall and killing a bunch of people... until he finds his true rider.

3. The Wolf

So... what would make a person Viserion’s chosen rider?

Let’s ask this question in another way. If being the prince that was promised was simply the matter of being the third child of Rhaegar Targaryen, why would he have it by way of running away with the daughter of a paramount lord who’s also the fiancee of another paramount lord, while he himself is married with two children, plunging the realm into war? He could have had a third child with a washerwoman or servant girl on Dragonstone. Or, if he’s super elitist and picky, he could have had it with a noblewoman from a lesser house who’s not engaged. He’s the crown prince, and noblemen in Westeros had their flings and no one held it against them (even when it became excessive, like in the cases of Brandon or Robert.)

So... why Lyanna? Is there anything special about Stark blood that gives its holder certain power? Why must there always be a Stark in Winterfell? Why don’t we ever hear that there must always be a Lannister in Casterly Rock, or an Arryn in the Eyrie? Is it just family tradition, or the sealing of a protective spell? Old Nan says that the first Night King (a legendary figure that has no relation to the current night king, but we don’t know if it’s truly legendary or if it’s one of *those* legends) was a Stark of Winterfell. We know the wall itself was built by a Stark of Winterfell (and not just any Stark, he founded the house.) Most (if not all) of the current generation of Starks are wargs; warging, skinchanging etc. seem to be magical abilities that come from the children of the forest... the children created the Others and lost control of their creation, and tried to destroy them (something not confirmed in the books yet.) But again... why were those abilities granted mostly to Starks? (they show up in Euron who is Ironborn and Brynden Rivers/Three Eyed Raven whose mother was from the Riverlands though from a house descended from the First Men... but again, most of those who possess those powers happen to be Starks.)

There is definitely a tie between the Starks and the Others. We don’t know the nature of this tie, whether the others were originally Starks/some of them were Starks, whether there was a pact between the Starks and the Others to keep them away from Westeros that was sealed with blood magic (i.e. the magic wardings on the Wall; probably sealed with Bran the Builder’s blood) and though we don’t know what this tie is, it definitely exists. Ice magic (to a lesser degree) has a relation to the Starks. And while I don’t think they can reanimate the dead any more than the Targaryens can breathe fire, having such a relation to a potent type of magic definitely affects you and makes you capable of connecting to it.

So, back to Jon Snow... (or did we ever start talking about him?)

Jon has the magical formula of balance between ice and fire. He has the blood of the kings of winter, of Bran the Builder, of the first men, and the blood of the dragonlords of Valyria. He has the potential to ride a dragon, and the potential to have a link to the others that enables him to make peace with them. And with... an intelligent wight?

But making peace with the others isn’t what we’re discussing here... what we’re discussing is the fact that Jon has ice magic AND fire magic in his blood.

Jon is undead; a “wight animated by fire” as Martin has said recently. And Viserion is undead; a dragon animated by ice. They are both ice dragons; one figurative, the other literal. Add to this all the evidence in the theory by joannalannister and nobodysuspectsthebutterfly that was linked above, and Jon is the perfect rider for Viserion.

4. Conclusion

ِAs much as you can never freeze fire, you can never turn a dragon into a wight and expect it to be completely in service of The Great Other. The two things are as paradoxical as ice and fire themselves. And if a living human being in the ASOIAF universe has the potential to tame an ice dragon and ride it, it can only be Jon Snow; a figurative ice dragon himself, who has magical ties to the others and magical ties to the dragons.

Whew... so, this turned out way longer than I expected. A second part is coming in which I try to further explore the relation between Stark blood and the others, and what Jon’s endgame might be.

[readysetjo]

PS/ SS - Chapter 5 - Diagon Alley

@alluringcliche @feelsandotps @wearywanderer @xingshining

I’m wondering what personal story I’m going to share today!

Also, I’m sleepy I hope that doesn’t affect (?)/ effect (?)/ change/ manipulate/ twist/ adjust (I am avoiding looking up the difference between the words “affect” and “effect” for the 100th time in my life) my normal chapter liveblog. I was dedicated to writing this tonight, tho. 

I forget that they didn’t automatically leave after that tense evening discussion

I have a headcanon that the pouches on The Daily Prophet’s owls have a charm that vanishes the money and deposits it into a Gringotts bank account. Otherwise the birds would get so heavy-ladened after a while and I imagine that the Prophet’s bird’s would be frequently stolen from. Imagine working at the Prophet’s owlery. That would be a little fun for a time.

Hagrid just trusts Harry with rummaging through his coat to find his money. He’s either really sleepy or far too trusting. 

“yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob [Gringotts].” /// lol Hagrid so had a chat with Harry about this memory later.

I’d like to see more of the tense dynamic between Fudge and Dumbledore. I bet Fudge would have been so funny to watch come undone under the weight of being Minister and slowly going from asking DD for help nearly every day to telling the reporters/ editors at the Prophet to slip in snide comments about DD. I want to watch that train wreck. 

Hagrid’s reasoning to why the Wizarding World is separate from the Muggle one is kind of odd to me. “everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems.” Like honestly the actual result of that would probably be a capitalistic one in which the average magical person would be able to sell their magical “solutions to problems” for money. This would just lead to the magical community becoming very wealthy. That’s not really a bad thing (on the surface/ from a wizard’s POV). I think the most logical answer is: “Our community is so different from the Muggle one that creating rules to enforce for the two societies coinciding would be so difficult that we keep ourselves separate in order that we can both create individual systems that works for each society.Also, we are trying to avoid causing strain with a power imbalance.” 

“Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up” /// I grew up very short with a very tall dad, so I really can relate haha. I would have to occasionally remind him how my stride was two of his. 

I wonder what Hagrid was knitting. 

I feel like the HP fandom should have had a running joke by now that any deserted store in a strip mall was the entrance to a wizarding community. Tho it seems like the entrance was not visible or had a like “don’t look at me” charm on it rather than how St. Mungo’s was hidden behind a deserted shop. 

“Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry’s shoulder and making Harry’s knees buckle.” /// That I can’t relate to lol. 

“I’m all of a flutter.” /// What a funny and great way to put that lol.

Dedalussssssss!!! One of Harry’s first magical “acquaintances” XD and the truly brave soul who (along with Hestia Jones) watched the Dursley’s for nearly a year. I don’t usually make the joke but... “Rubeus Dedalus Potter you were named for-”

“’What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?’ [asked Harry] ‘D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,’ muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’s rather not think about it.’”/// 1. I died. I forgot about this line! 2. He went on a year-long break from work to do some research. That is so Ravenclaw. 3. What if Quirrell became known for wearing beanies instead of a turban? 4. I forgot how it was possible that Quirrell could shake Harry’s hand right now. 5. I forgot why Harry’s scar didn’t hurt right now. (I’ll probably remember soon enough, but I wouldn’t mind reminders if I don’t.)  6. You know those words that trip you up for no good reason? Yeah, well I’ve got quite the arsenal of those, but one of them happens to be “squirrel” (why? idk?) and this man helped me remember that the word has two “R”s in it.

“Harry wished he had about eight more eyes.” /// Harry Spider

I wonder what is the cool new broomstick model right now. 

Gringotts colors are scarlet and gold and I never noticed before. I think they wore black in the movies or just like nice work clothes. Also, I would like to go to Shell’s Cottage and hear Bill and Fleur tell me all about how Gringotts got started. I am fascinated. 

The poem on the door about stealing from Gringotts is so funny to me bc I am just thinking about how cabs have like signs that say that the driver doesn’t carry over a certain amount of money. These are two very different philosophies of deterring a thief. 

Three times JKR foreshadowed to us just how stupid it would be to try and rob Gringotts. 

Our Muggle banks and safety deposit boxes are so much more efficient and I am grateful. 

 Hey there Griphook! Well be seeing you again!

So Dumbledore would have told all the professors what they were hiding in Hogwarts, due to asking them for their help to do it right? But did they know why they were hiding the Sorcerer’s Stone? Did they too know that they were trying to suppress Voldemort’s return? I kinda hope they did. It seems to be that Hagrid did.

I like to imagine these seemingly perpetually grumpy goblins actually love their twisty roller coaster-ish cart rides under London. 

“Harry didn’t know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money.” /// So happy for him!!

Hagrid told him to get his uniform first almost like a parent haha. 

Reminder that Harry disliked Draco for his awful character right from the very beginning and that Draco set himself up for the foul life he ended up with by never seeing the goodness in others as something that he should want too. (I don’t say this to any of you four Questers bc I think you all would agree, but I just had to say it.)

I like how popular and big football is that even wizards know what it is and use it to compare to Quidditch. OMG I’m so stupid I’m just remembering one of the best eras in post-HP publishing history and getting emotional about it. Does anyone remember the 2014 Quidditch World Cup. I obsessed over it that summer and read every word that Ginny wrote and ahhhhh I miss it. I miss Quidditch and Pottermore publishing updates with chapter art and meta and character backgrounds. What a golden era post-DH. 

I like that Hagrid said that toads went “out of fashion years ago” so that means that, at one point, toads were vogue and that’s amazing by itself. I bet the professors hated that time. The constant low croaking coming from everyone’s pockets. 

“For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in [Ollivanders] seemed to tingle with some secret magic.” /// I love that feeling when it happens in real life. Like when you discover a cute little stream on a hike or a beautiful old library. 

I sometimes wish I had the memory of Ollivander. 

The second “you have your mother’s eyes” drink!

Ollivander had some personal space invading issues. (And it irks me.)

I know I already said that I want to know about like three things in this liveblog, but I’m desperate to know more about wandlore too. I want more facts.

I kind of like that the more difficult it was to find Harry a wand, the happier Ollivander got. That’s a good attitude to have right there. That’s how you know you love your job.

Voldemort’s wand was 13 inches and Harry’s was 11 inches. That means that there’s a chance that Voldemort’s phoenix’s core feather was longer than Harry’s and, therefore lower on Fawkes’ tail. 

Gosh wands are expensive. 

Goodbye, Ollie, see you later. 

Why did they not buy a trunk in Diagon Alley? Where did Harry even get a trunk that he carries around with him for 7 years? These are the real plot holes!  jkjkjk

That chapter was a little longer than usual. But since this one has less chapters in it, we are actually almost one third through with it. That’s wild!

[affairesasuivre]

Premature Evaluation: At The Drive In in·ter a·li·a

“Arcarsenal,” admittedly, is an impossibly high bar. But that’s it. That’s the standard. When you’re At The Drive In, nothing short of “Arcarsenal” is going to register as a thrilling introduction. The El Paso post-hardcore heroes haven’t given us an album since Relationship Of Command, the legend-sealing 2000 LP that briefly made them look like the future of rock ‘n’ roll. They’d released two albums before that, building up a fervent following as they honed their twisty and relentless take on screamo. 

And then Relationship Of Command came along and put them on the radio and MTV2, rocketing them into the consciousness of a far wider audience than ever before. Shortly afterward they broke up, splintering into one heady, ambitious prog band (the Mars Volta) and one straightforward punk act (Sparta) and leaving behind loads of untapped potential. Thus, that third album has served as the entry point for the vast majority of At The Drive In’s fans, myself included.

That means when most of us press play on an At The Drive In album, we expect nothing short of a breathtaking, body-clenching, deeply visceral experience. Relationship Of Command begins with “Arcarsenal,” arguably the three most exhilarating minutes of music ever to emerge from Texas. The moment at thestart of the second verse when the music stops just long enough for Cedric Bixler-Zavala to exclaim, “I must have read a thousand FA-CES!” will always make me want to punch through a wall in a fit of violent happiness. It’s almost impossible to hear that song without reacting physically — flailing your body around in ecstasy and thinking, holy shit and maybe letting out a joyous, wordless howl. And although it peaks with “Arcarsenal,” the album doesn’t stop there. Like most good rollercoasters, Relationship Of Command begins with its most exciting drop but keeps up the excitement with twists and turns all the way to the finish. Every song is electrifying on a surface level and dense with big ideas if you decide to dig deep. It’s a masterpiece.

The reunited At The Drive In seemed to understand that when I saw them perform at Rock On The Range last spring. Their eight-song set entirely comprised Relationship Of Command material, beginning with “Arcarsenal” and ending with breakout single “One Armed Scissor.” I went into it expecting a lightweight nostalgia trip and ended up getting an adrenaline rush so intense and rewarding that I immediately found myself craving a new ATDI album, not least of all as an excuse to bring their tour back to my city someday soon.

There was also the hope that this band could return after 17 years as vital as they left off. After all, as Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib writes at NPR, in their heyday At TheDrive In were “inserting representations of Latino culture and border politics into common conversation in a way that now, in the era of Trump, feels like foreshadowing.” Surely all the infuriating headlines of the past year could inspire some righteous new music from one of the most volatile punk bands of my lifetime?

Yeah… kind of? I guess? There are a few precious moments on in·ter a·li·a, ATDI’s long-awaited comeback album, that grip me like this band’s finest work — moments like the worthy “One Armed Scissor” sequel “Incurably Innocent,” which builds from the band’s trademark stop-start herks and jerks into one of those high-drama choruses that feel like the floor endlessly bottoming out beneath you — but those moments are few and far between. Mostly it’s just a competent At The Drive In album, one that sounds like the same band but does not elicit the same feelings. It’s fine.

Things get off on the wrong foot with “No Wolf Like The Present,” one of in·ter a·li·a’s weakest tracks. The best ATDI songs throttle you around in all directions without losing their furious sense of pace; here all that rhythmic tumult just makes the song feel disjointed, like they’re trying to rev up the engine but can’t get any momentum going. The former mastery of dynamics is so lacking that it might as well be the work of an At The Drive In tribute act. From a band that once led off an album with “Arcarsenal,” starting with such a bum note like a preemptive surrender.

Subsequent songs “Continuum” and “Tilting At The Univendor” slide much more snugly into that classic ATDI groove, veering from segment to jagged segment with wild abandon and a real sense of purpose. There’s just one problem with those, a problem that crops up many times throughout this album: Cedric Bixler-Zavala often abandons his distinctive wail in favor of cringeworthy hair-metal vocals that steer ATDI into Darkness territory. “Governed By Contagions” in particular induces whiplash, and not the good kind we’ve historically associated with this band; rather, it toggles so awkwardly between obnoxious and arresting that the end result is frustration at hearing a potential classic slip away into mediocrity.

“Torrentially Cutshaw,” “Call Broken Arrow,” “Pendulum In A Peasant Dress” — what can I say except these are all tracks that exist on this album, too. Thebrooding deep cut “Ghost-Tape No. 9″ at least results in a change of pace. As for the topical content: You’d think an At The Drive In song about convicted rapist police officer Daniel Holtzclaw would be cathartic to the extreme, but “Holtzclaw” is just kind of there, less a song than a venue for a narrative with a finale tacked on. The album at least ends on a high note with “Hostage Stamps,” one of those tracks that rekindles that breathless feeling of old, if only in fleeting glimpses.

Even these half-hearted compliments feel like a reach. The songwriting is not up to snuff. There are no hooks anywhere near as infectious as, for instance, the“Freight train coming!” bit from “Enfilade.” In terms of sheer intangible power, it’s like watching an aging athlete who’s lost a step. in·ter a·li·a is the kind of album you fear when a legendary band attempts a comeback, an act of going through the motions that seems to exist only as an excuse to keep playing the classics on tour. The best of these songs are not going to stir anything close to a Relationship Of Command response in you unless your connection with this band runs far deeper than mine. And maybe you’re exactly that kind of listener, with affection for early deep cuts that mean nothing to me and a belief that any new At The Drive In music is better than nothing. Personally, after a few spins through in·ter a·li·a, I’d rather have nothing.

in·ter a·li·a is out now on Rise Records.