#FATHERLAND I AM COMING FOR YOU!!!

[cicadangel]

MY DAD SAID I COULD SUMMER STUDY ABROAD IN KOREA THIS YEAR WOOHOOOO YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[metamorphesque]

its so comforting to see someone unbashedly love their country and culture. the way u write and speak of it its so refreshing to me. im from india and well, the state of our country isnt good our fascist leader is successfully dividing the people and its so rare these days to find ppl just simply love where they come from, culture and language without any hate for anyone else. so i absolutely adore it when i see u talk abt armenia its like one can see how much care u hold for the language and the country. wishing for peace and sending love x

I am sorry, dear, that dark clouds are looming over your bright and colorful land of magic. In my lifetime, I’ve had the pleasure of encountering a few young Indian people (both in real life and online), and I have a lot of love and respect for your nation and its culture. I am sure that brighter days are awaiting both our homelands.

You see, what I’ve noticed is that some people often confuse their fatherland with their government. The hatred that they have toward the latter often taints the love and respect they ought to have toward their homeland. But, once and for all, we must remember that these two are not synonymous. Fatherland is a place where the roots of history, culture and identity intertwine. A fatherland is not just a geographical location; it is a sanctuary of shared memories, values and traditions passed down through generations. It represents the collective spirit of a people, their history, struggles and triumphs. To call a place one's fatherland is to cherish it as a cradle of life, as one’s own home.

To me, the love one has for their fatherland is like a mathematical function that always moves towards infinity (its designated final value) but never quite reaches it. One can never love their fatherland enough. There’s always something more you can do, there’s always something better you can do. I guess the vessel that carries one’s love toward their homeland is only ever fully filled when one gives up their life to protect their fatherland.

I can only speak from my own experience – I was raised historically and, more or less, politically conscious. When you’re a six or seven-year-old impressionable kid and you visit The Museum of The Armenian Genocide of 1915, you see the photographs, the articles, all the documentation that exists – firstly, you’ll never be the same again, and secondly, your naïve childish brain thinks that, as you’ve always been told, whenever someone commits a crime or does something bad, they get punished. Then I looked around and noticed that these heinous crimes, these massacres, were not only left unpunished, but the whole thing was swept under the rug by the world, as if it never happened. Then you grow up, sharing borders with the enemy, the dagger of war swaying upon your head, with every new day bringing more and more deaths of Armenian soldiers serving on the border. You see your enemy disrespecting you, your history and your culture. You see them erasing your history and your culture … and all of this is accompanied by the crickets of the world. Then there’s Western Armenia calling for us, a topic that I plan on writing more about. And at last, our Ararat that you can see so very clearly from Armenia …

And, alongside this, there’s this immense pride you feel in being an heir to a nation that created a culture so distinctly beautiful, a nation that gave birth to luminaries such as Grigor Narekaci, Sayat-Nova, Hovhannes Toumnyan, Vahan Teryan, Eghishe Charenc, Daniel Varujan, Paruyr Sevak, Misak Metsarenc, Silva Kaputikyan, Hovhannes Grigoryan, Vardges Petrosyan, Martiros Saryan, Sergey Parajanov, Shahan Nathalie, Gurgen Yanikyan, Monte Melqonyan, and the list goes on … the nation that invented color television, ATMs, hand-held hair dryers, coffee machines, PET scans, MRI and so much more.

Have all of this brew in your soul and dare not to love and cherish your fatherland – you can’t.

[2hoothoots]

i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

[elsalouisa]

Letter from princess Dagmar of Denmark to Tsar Alexander II, October 12th 1864

"My dear Papa,

Forgive me that I approach you, this time with a request, my first, which I address to you; but when I see my poor Papa and our country bending under the yoke of injustice, I naturally feel drawn towards you, my dear Papa, by bonds of love and trust. Therefore I come as a daughter to her father, and in asking you to use your power to mitigate the terrible conditions which the Germans have brutally forced Papa to accept, I am showing you how deep my trust in you already is, in that, unbeknown to my Father, I am asking you for help and protection, if that is possible, against our dreadful enemies.

I hope, dear Papa, that you will not find your future daughter-in-law too obtrusive, but the sad plight of my fatherland, which makes my heart heavy, has inspired me to turn to you as he who can be our providence. In giving you a sincere kiss, I ask you to kiss my dear Mama’s hands, not forgetting the dear brothers and Marie, and I remain your devoted and obedient daughter,

Dagmar Marie".

[whatisthismandoinghere]

For the drabbles prompt:

"Kill Me" - After Hogan is caught outside the wire on one of his solo missions, Klink is forced to choose between killing Hogan or being shot himself, with the implication that Hogan will be shot either way. So Klink regrettably kills him, but only because he knows his prisoners need him.

I am happy to announce that I have finally finished a request!! For you my dear friend <3 I'd also like to thank you and everyone else who has requested things for their patience as I very slowly wade my way through them all lol but without further ado!!

"Herr Kommandant! Major Hochstetter... he- he caught Colonel Hogan... outside the wire."

They were words that Klink had been dreading to hear and that day had finally come. They echoed loudly in his mind over and over as he desperately tried to think of what to do, what to say, but nothing came.

"Kommandant?" Schultz gently spoke again, snapping Klink back to reality. "What are we going to do?"

Klink stared at Schultz for a moment, realizing how tired and sad he looked. He knew the sergeant was a good man, and he only wanted the best for the prisoners and for this terrible war to be over. But he couldn't give him any hope, for Klink couldn't find any himself.

"I honestly don't know, Schultz," Klink finally answered. "I don't know if there's anything we can do."

"But there must be something."

There had to be, Schultz just knew it. Things couldn't end like this. Hogan couldn't... he just couldn't... Schultz couldn't even being himself to think the word.

Die.

Schultz shuddered a little then turned to face Klink again, hoping against hope that he would be able to do something.

"Send them in," Klink said tiredly. "Maybe we can make this up as we go along."

Schultz nodded then turned to open the door to Klink's office, hoping his commanding officer was as good at winging it as Colonel Hogan was.

☆☆☆

"Colonel Klink," Hochstetter growled menacingly as he entered the office. He radiated confidence and pride with every step he took, fully basking in the glory of the capture of his greatest rival, Colonel Hogan of the USAAF.

Klink could hardly stand Hochstetter's attitude. It made him feel sick to his stomach, but he could not let him know that. He tried to put on a brave face and puffed out his chest, but he felt so deflated on the inside.

"Major Hochstetter," Klink answered, trying to keep his voice steady and making the choice to stand up behind his desk, hoping the fact he was taller than the major would help boost his own confidence. "What brings you here at this ungodly hour?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Hochstetter answered sinisterly as he reached his hand back and dragged Hogan forward. "Missing any prisoners lately?"

Klink looked at Hogan for a moment, noticing that Hochstetter had already had some fun. Hogan's clothes were rumpled and torn. Civilian clothes. There was blood running down the side of his face. A dark bruise was starting to form on his cheek and his hands were tied behind his back. The longer Klink looked, the worse the situation seemed to become.

"Major-" Klink began.

"Let me stop you right there, Colonel. You know the rules just as well as I do. I caught Hogan in civilian clothes, which means he is no longer protected by the Geneva Convention. A pity really."

A twisted smile crossed Hochstetter’s face as he nonchalantly pulled out his pistol and admired the gleam of it in the light of Klink's office.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation, Major-"

"Like what? Are you trying to cover for him? Or maybe trying to cover for your disloyalty to the Fatherland?"

"That's not what I said. If you'd only let me finish-"

"I'm tired of talking Kommandant," Hochstetter said through clenched teeth. "There's only one way for this to end."

Hochstetter paused for a moment, then held his pistol out to Klink.

"And why don't you do the honors?"

Klink's eyes went wide as Hochstetter's words sunk in, and he nearly stumbled back into his chair.

"Unless of course, you'd like to join Colonel Hogan?" Hochstetter couldn't help but smirk at his ingenuity.

"Herr Kommandant," Schultz whispered, his hand resting on his heart. He tried to say more, but the words just weren't coming out.

Hogan just felt... numb. Everything that had happened had been a blur, from his initial capture to now, standing here in Klink's office. He was grateful this had been a solo mission though. He couldn't bear to see any of his men meet this fate.

But when Hochstetter had basically threatened to kill Klink if he didn't kill Hogan, he was suddenly paying very close attention. He honestly couldn't say what he'd rather Klink choose. On one hand, if Klink died what would happen to his men? Would they end up with a vicious kommandant that would treat them worse than any of them could have imagined? How would they fare? Could they keep the operation going?

Would they make it out of Stalag 13 alive?

On the other hand, Hogan wasn't quite sure how he felt about... well, dying. Sure, it had always been a possibility, but now it was actually happening. He didn't necessarily want to go out this way, but if his last act would be protecting his men in a way, so be it. He'd be more than happy to do so.

Klink was also fighting an inner battle. How could he bring himself to shoot one of his own prisoners? Especially one that he interacted with daily? He didn't think he could do it.

But then he also had to think of his other prisoners. What would happen to them if he was killed? Would they be treated well?

Klink had finally come to a decision, regrettable as it was.

"Very well, Major," Klink said. "Let us go outside and get this over with."

Klink calmly took the pistol from an incredulous Hochstetter and gently pushed Hogan in front of him, taking the opportunity to whisper in the American colonel's ear and attempt to explain himself.

"I'm sorry, Hogan. I truly am." Klink tried to speak as fast as he could, knowing Hochstetters's shock at his decision wouldn't last forever. "I do not wish to do this. But the other prisoners... I simply cannot risk them falling into the hands of Major Hochstetter or somebody worse, if that's even possible."

Klink braced himself for how Hogan would react. Not that Hogan was a selfish man, far from it. But given the stress of the situation and how uncharacteristically quiet he had been in the office, Klink didn't quite know what to expect.

"I was thinking the same thing," Hogan answered quietly. "I respect your decision, Colonel. Just... just make sure you don't miss," he finished with a half hearted chuckle.

"Hogan..." Klink began.

"There's nothing more to say, Klink. I hold nothing against you. Let's just get this over with, yeah?"

Hogan turned to face the door, but paused for a moment and turned around to face Klink once again.

"Take care of my men. Make sure they don't meet the same fate as me. Please. They have to make it home."

"Of course," was all Klink could manage.

Not that he had much time to say more, for Hochstetter came barging in not soon after.

"What are we standing around here for?" he shouted. "Let us not waste any more time."

☆☆☆

It was a grim scene at Stalag 13.

Hogan, a helpless standing target.

Klink, the reluctant killer-to-be.

Schultz, crying silently at Hogan’s fate.

And Hochstetter, all too happy to see all of these events unfold.

After all, it was to be the major's crowning moment. A capture he had been waiting what felt like a lifetime for. And on top of it all, he had been able to force Klink to be the one to pull the trigger.

Would Hochstetter have liked to be that man? Sure. Killing Hogan would be a great pleasure. But to have the kommandant do it, especially considering the two interacted daily and Klink was opposed to such violence, now that was even better.

Klink fiddled with the gun for a moment, making sure it was loaded, trying to stall for time. But in the end he knew it was useless. Hochstetter's voice soon confirmed that.

"What are you waiting for, Klink? Have you changed your mind and decided to join Hogan? Because I can happily arrange that," Hochstetter called out impatiently. He was getting tired of waiting.

"That will not be necessary," Klink answered tiredly, raising the pistol and aiming right at Hogan's heart.

Schultz couldn't bear to watch, so he turned away as tears continued to stream down his face. He knew why Klink was doing what he was doing, but he didn't know if he would ever be able to look at his commanding officer the same way ever again.

Hogan silently nodded at Klink, trying to reassure him that it was all going to be okay. Trying to assure him that he should not feel guilty, although he knew he would. Trying to assure him that Hochstter would not win in the end.

Klink nodded in return, but he knew this moment would haunt him for the rest of his life. There was no happy ending here. Only death, pain, and sorrow.

Klink took a deep breath and finally pulled the trigger.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and after what felt like an eternity the bullet finally struck Hogan. He stumbled backward a bit, before falling to his knees. Blood seeped from his chest and stained his white shirt. Then he finally collapsed and hit the dirt.

☆☆☆

That was always when Klink woke up, tangled up in his sheets and drenched in sweat. It was a recurring nightmare for him, although the victim wasn't always Hogan. Sometimes it was Newkirk, sometimes it was even young innocent Carter. But the ending was always the same, and it always left him feeling hopeless and even more resentful of the monster controlling his country. He was just grateful that he hadn't actually had to kill a prisoner. Although the fact they were only dreams wasn't much comfort.

He knew about Hogan's operation. And he knew that Hogan and his men were usually careful. But he couldn't help but think of the what ifs, which always seemed to manifest themselves into twisted nightmares that haunted Klink's sleep.

That was just proof of how high the stakes were in this war though, and while Klink was definitely proud to be helping Hogan, his men, and the Allies, he wished his mind would find better outlets for his anxiety.

"This cursed war is going to be the end of me," Klink grumbled as he sat up, glancing at the clock which read 0200.

But despite all this he couldn't say he regretted anything. He didn't regret Hogan gathering the courage to tell him about his operation. He didn't regret Hogan and his men asking for his help. He didn't regret saying yes.

Because this cause was worth fighting for. His country was worth fighting for. The fate of Europe and the world as a whole was worth fighting for.

And that was of great comfort to him.

☆☆☆

"Morning Kommandant," Hogan sloppily saluted as he walked into Klink's office.

"Good morning Colonel Hogan," Klink smiled. He was genuinely happy to see the man considering his nightmare from the night before.

"Long night? You look-"

"Exhausted? Defeated?"

"Well... yeah."

Klink remained silent for a moment, flashes of the nightmare playing through his head. "Let us just say that I did not sleep well."

Hogan recognized that look, that blank stare. He also had been in this war long enough to know what "I just didn't sleep well" meant. He also knew better than to outright ask about it, but he decided to offer his support anyway.

He traced the wood on Klink's desk, trying to choose his next words carefully. He didn't want to seem like he was prying, but he also wanted to seem genuine.

"If you ever need to vent, I'm here. I'm just a typical POW. I don't do much," Hogan smirked.

Klink couldn't help but chuckle. "Now we both know that is a lie."

"It was worth a shot." Hogan stood and started to leave the room but paused in the doorway. "I mean it though. I offer the same open door policy to my men. And since you're part of the team now... it applies to you too."

"Thank you, Hogan. I appreciate it. Perhaps I shall take you up on that offer another time. All this paperwork you know..." Klink trailed off and ended with a weak chuckle.

Klink knew it was a weak excuse, and so did Hogan. But Hogan also knew how to take a hint and decided to drop the subject for now. Klink would talk if or when he was ready.

"Well I'll let you get to it. It's a shame they're keeping the Iron Eagle cooped up with such menial tasks."

"Dismissed, Colonel Hogan."

"Too far? Yeah, I suppose you're right," Hogan joked, but then he took on a more serious note. "I meant everything I said though, Klink. If you ever need to talk, I'm here to listen."

Hogan finished with a nod and a somewhat awkward smile then finally left the room, leaving Klink alone with his thoughts.

Klink appreciated the gesture, he really did. But he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to open up about those nightmares. It was unnerving to see what his mind could come up with at times, but it helped to know he had true friends that wanted to help him.

He had a lot of progress to make, he knew that, but for now that small comfort was enough. He just hoped it'd get him through this bloody war.

[nikoisme]

today on crying over the odyssey in serbian: odysseus and telemachus reunion. More specifically - this part:

Nije, Telemaše, pravo da svome se milome ocu

suviše čudiš i diviš kad ovde pred tobom stoji,

jer ti drugi više Odisej ne dođe amo!

Ja sam kakva me vidiš; nalutah se mnogo i mučih,

posle dvadeset leta u očinsku zemlju se vratih.

Which would roughly translate to:

It is not right, Telemachus, to be too surprised and astounded by your dear father when he is standing here before you, because the other Odysseus will not come here again! I am as you see me; I wandered a lot and struggled, after twenty years I returned to my fatherland.

kinda hits hard though. this is odysseus, your father. no other odysseus will show himself there. the man you maybe grew up with, woven from the stories you were told - chances are that is not odysseus. that odysseus isn't the one standing before you. this is the odysseus that came back, changed from war and travel and troubles that no bard can sing of nor king may tell you about.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Hello! Another tumblr user I follow has posed a challenge: memorize one poem per month in 2024. I would like to include at least one poem in Catalan in my journey. Could you recommend any good poems or poets for this?

Hello! We have many very talented poets. My favourite poet is Salvador Espriu, other good ones are Miquel Martí i Pol, Vicent Andrés Estellés, Jacint Verdaguer, Maria-Mercè Marçal, Pere Quart, Josep Carner, Ausiàs March, Joan Maragall, Montserrat Abelló, J.V. Foix, Gabriel Ferrater, Joana Raspall, Joan Alcover, Enric Casasses, among others.

I'll add 7 of my favourite short/short-ish poems (+translation to English) under the cut. Poetry is very personal and these are just the ones that I really like, but I'll be happy if anyone else wants to add more of their favourite Catalan poems.

1. Enyore un temps que no és vingut encara (I Miss a Time That's Not Yet Come) by Vicent Andrés Estellés.

Enyore un temps que no és vingut encara com un passat d’accelerada lluita, de combatius balcons i d’estendards, irat de punys, pacífic de corbelles, nou de cançons, parelles satisfetes, el menjador obert de bat a bat i el sol entrant fins al darrer racó. Em moriré, però l’enyore ja, aquest moment, aquest ram, aquest dia, que m’ha de fer aixecar de la fossa veient passar la multitud contenta.

Translation:

I miss a time that has not arrived yet like a past of accelerated fight, of combative balconies and standards, angry of fists, peaceful of sickles, new of songs, satisfied couples, the living room wide open and the sun entering until the last corner. I will die, but I miss it already, this moment, this bouquet, this day, that shall make me get up from the grave watching the happy crowd pass by.

2. Assaig del càntic en el temple (Attempted Canticle in the Temple) by Salvador Espriu.

Oh, que cansat estic de la meva covarda, vella, tan salvatge terra, i com m’agradaria d’allunyar-me’n, nord enllà, on diuen que la gent és neta i noble, culta, rica, lliure, desvetllada i feliç! Aleshores, a la congregació, els germans dirien desaprovant: «Com l’ocell que deixa el niu, així l’home que se’n va del seu indret», mentre jo, ja ben lluny, em riuria de la llei i de l’antiga saviesa d’aquest meu àrid poble. Però no he de seguir mai el meu somni i em quedaré aquí fins a la mort. Car sóc també molt covard i salvatge i estimo a més amb un desesperat dolor aquesta meva pobra, bruta, trista, dissortada pàtria.

Translation:

How tired I am of this my craven, ancient, savage fatherland; and how it would delight me to leave, going north, where they say that people are noble and clean, cultured, rich, free, awake/unsupervised and happy! Then, my brethren would tell the congregation, disapprovingly: "Leaving his native place, a man becomes like a bird leaving the nest", while I, in the distance, would laugh at the law and the ancient wisdom of this my arid people. But the dream will never be followed, I’ll stay here until my death. For I too am full of cowardice and savagery, and with a desperate pain I love this my poor, unclean, sad, unlucky fatherland.

3. Divisa (Motto) by Maria-Mercè Marçal. This one's short and easy!

A l’atzar agraeixo tres dons: haver nascut dona, de classe baixa i nació oprimida. I el tèrbol atzur de ser tres voltes rebel.

Translation:

I am grateful to fate for three gifts: to have been born a woman, from the working class and an oppressed nation. And the turbid azure of being three times a rebel.

4. Possible introducció a un epitalami (Possible Introduction to an Epithalamium) by Salvador Espriu

I posted this a while ago, find the text and translation in this post:

5. Plus Ultra ("Further" in Latin) by Jacint Verdaguer

Text and translation in this post:

6. Aquesta remor que se sent (This Murmur We Hear) by Miquel Martí i Pol.

Text and translation in this post:

7. Mester d'amor (Knowing How to Love) by Joan Salvat-Papasseit

Si en saps el pler no estalviïs el bes que el goig d'amar no comporta mesura. Deixa't besar, i tu besa després que és sempre als llavis que l'amor perdura. No besis, no, com l'esclau i el creient, mes com vianant a la font regalada. Deixa't besar -sacrifici fervent- com més roent més fidel la besada. ¿Què hauries fet si mories abans sense altre fruit que l'oreig en ta galta? Deixa't besar, i en el pit, a les mans, amant o amada -la copa ben alta. Quan besis, beu, curi el veire el temor: besa en el coll, la més bella contrada. Deixa't besar i si et quedava enyor besa de nou, que la vida és comptada.

Translation:

If you know its pleasure, don't skip the kiss for the joy of loving has no measure. Let yourself be kissed, and kiss after it for it's always on the lips that love lasts. Don't kiss, no, like the slave and the believer, but like the passer-by does with a delightful fountain. Let yourself be kissed -fervent sacrifice- the more burning, the more faithful is the kiss. ¿What would you have done if you died before without fruit other than the zephyr on your cheek? Let yourself be kissed, and on the chest, on the hands, male or female lover -the cup raised high. When you kiss, drink; may the glass cure the fear: kiss on the neck, the most beautiful place. Let yourself be kissed and if there's yearning left kiss again, for life is finite.

These are some I like. You can find more Catalan poems in this blog's tag #poesia.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Awkward hugs compilation

M. Dusaulx: It isn’t envy that rises to this tribune, it is gratitude. I am very attached to M. Petion: he is my fellow patriot. Without ever having spoken to him, I believe I am his interpreter on this tribune. No premature praise: love is the reward of living men, statues and crowns the price of the dead. I regard M. Petion as my son; it is very bold, no doubt! He steps down from the tribune, and M. Petion throws himself into his arms. This triumph of sentiment made all hearts feel the sweetest sensation. Session at the Jacobins November 19 1791

M. Dusaulx: All the patriots of this club have long been suspended in the course of a discussion which seemed to compromise two good patriots who must love and esteem each other; something would be missing after what M. Brissot said before leaving this assembly, it is the duty of these two generous men to embrace each other. No sooner had he finished than MM. Robespierre and Brissot were in each other's arms, amid the unanimous applause of the Society, moved by this touching spectacle. M. Robespierre: By yielding to M. Dusaulx's invitation, I only gave myself up to the impulse of my heart, I gave what I owed to the confession and to the fraternity and to the feeling depth that I have of a man who enjoys the greatest consideration and who must render the greatest services to the fatherland; I will prove to M. Brissot how much I am attached to him. This should in no way change the opinion that every man should have of the public good; it is to do all that will be in me, and what I believe necessary for the public safety, that I will ask to answer in another session to the speech of M. Brissot. Brissot and Robespierre at the Jacobins, January 20 1792

M. Dumouriez rushes into M. Robespierre's arms. The Society and the tribunes, regarding these embraces as a presage of the agreement of the ministry with the love of the people, accompany this spectacle with the liveliest applause. The Jacobin Club, March 19 1792

A few days later Danton came to find me. He showed me a letter that Marat wrote to him; this letter was very insolent; reproaches were mixed with insults; he threatened Danton. Danton seemed angry to me; Marat was on the surveillance committee, we went down there together. The debate was very lively; Danton treated Marat harshly; Marat maintained what he had put forward, ended up saying that it was necessary to forget everything, tore up the letter, embraced Danton, and Danton embraced him back. I attest to these facts which played out before me. Discours de Jérôme Pétion sur l’accusation intentée contre Maximilien Robespierre (November 5 1792)

Dumouriez enters the hall together with Santerre; the general embraces Robespierre, everyone applauds. The Jacobin Club, October 14 1792

Rousillon: I was accused of partiality, because I did not want to call into question whether Legendre would be expelled; Momero was said to be an aristocrat; I was forced to embrace Jacques Roux, but never did a kiss seem so bitter to me. The Jacobin Club, June 28 1793

The reconciliation, however, appeared to be complete; the two embraced: Danton put frankness in it; he was touched; we were all moved: well! How could you not? We only think, we only see the patrie, liberty, the republic; Only Robespierre remained cold like marble!.... Principaux évènemens, pour et contre la Révolution, dont les détails ont été ignorés jusqu’à présent: et prédiction de Danton au Tribunal révolutionnaire, accomplie (1794) by Jean-Lambert Tallien and Jean-Louis-Marie Villain d’Aubigny, page 49-50.

Goupilleau de Fontenay: I challenge David to declare if, at the moment when Robespierre descended from the tribune of the Jacobins, after having delivered his speech, or rather his indictment, he, David, did not go and embrace him saying: "If you drink hemlock, I shall drink it with you."  David: It was not to come and greet Robespierre that I went down to his side; it was to go up to the tribune and ask that the feast of the 10th should take place. I didn't embrace Robespierre, I didn't even touch him, because he repelled everyone.  The Jacobin Club, July 31 1794

On exiting the hall, Tallien doubled his pace, grabbed hold of Fréron, pressed him into his arms and embraced him. This unexpected scene caused great disorder within the club. On one side, people applauded, saying: ”Look! Look! They don’t care!” On the other, one cried: ”This is how the conspirators get along!” Jacobin Club, September 3 1794, just after both Tallien and Fréron had been struck from the club’s list of members.

Chatillon-Sur-Marne, which I am only mentioning here because Joly, its priest, a former college comrade of Robespierre, got it into his head to come and say hello to him at the time of the terror. Robespierre drew back when he tried to embrace him; and whenever, while talking, the priest of Chatillon-sur-Marne approached the tyrant, the latter huddled in a corner, still afraid of being assassinated. Dictionnaire néologique des hommes et des choses… (1799) by Beffroy de Reigny, volume 3, page 223

The next day Saint-Just came to my room: I was occupied with my mail and I begged him to let me finish a letter. While I was writing he saw my rifle, seized it and amused himself by examining the battery: it was unfortunately loaded, the shot went off, the bullet passed close to me and went to pierce my coat rack which was on a chair, five or six steps away. I got up immediately, the gun had fallen from the hands of Saint-Just, he turned pale, staggered and threw himself into my arms. He then said to me in a deepened tone: “Ah! Levasseur, if I had killed you? - You would have played me a nasty trick; if I must die from a gunshot, let it at least come from an enemy’s hand. Hearing the report, several officers who were near my door rushed into my room and found Saint-Just, pale as death, in my arms. Mémoires de R. Levasseur (de la Sarthe) ex-conventionnel, ornés du portrait de l’auteur (1829), volume 2, page 242

The session became so stormy that Collot used acts of violence against Robespierre. He threw himself at him and seized him by the flanks. He was about to throw Robespierre through the window when the latter's friends rescued him. Robespierre then declared that he was leaving the committee, that he could not honorably sit with executioners, that he would report this to the Convention. One saw the danger of publicizing this scene, blamed Collot's patriotic anger, and begged Robespierre, after having torn up the disastrous list, not to give the enemies of the Republic new means of attacking it. Robespierre seemed to calm down, but when Collot approached him to embrace him he refused and despite being urged not to he left. Mémoires de Barras, membre du Directoire, page 349-350

[josefavomjaaga]

General Soult and d’Espinchal in Spain

No, "general" is not a mistake, this snippet is mostly about Pierre Benoit, younger sibling of Marshal Soult, a soldier who spent most of his career under immediate orders of his brother, first as his aide-de-camp and later as his cavalry commander. While Joseph Bonaparte in his reports to Clarke and Napoleon was pretty vicious about Pierre’s military talents (or lack thereof), d’Espinchal who served in the cavalry under his command, seems to have esteemed him greatly.

In this case, the two of them took it upon them to try and save the life of a French émigré serving in the army of the Spanish insurgents. After the Armée du Midi had evacuated Andalusia and chased Wellington from Madrid and back to Portugal, Joseph had designated the region of Tolédo as their winter quarters. On 9 December 1812, a small detachment of the advance guard, under d’Espinchal’s command, surprised a Spanish outpost there and took a handful of prisoners, among them one officer.

And this officer seemed oddly familiar to d’Espinchal. As it turned out, he was the son of a French émigré who after the Revolution had found a new home at the Spanish court. The son had joined the Spanish army somewhat against his will, had even written letters to French officers in order to be allowed to return to France - but be that as it may, taken up arms against France he had.

On a sidenote, Frédéric Masson in the preface gushes about how very truthful and reliable d’Espinchal’s account is. At least in this incident I cannot agree, because the story d’Espinchal has the arrested officer "Alfred de M." tell about his life seems to be utter bullshit. But the author may have had reasons to conceal the real story and the true identity of the man. In the end it does not matter. What matters: He had a captured Frenchman at his hand who was guilty of fighting against his old fatherland.

Which would earn him the death penalty. Period.

The young man pleaded for his life, and begged d’Espinchal to do something for him if he could. D’Espinchal decided this was a little too hot for him on his own, and went to see his commanding general about the matter.

And, giving him a hundred francs for his first needs, I left him and went to see the general. "So what's so interesting that you're leaving the outposts? You would be well and truly seized," he said to me, smiling, "if they were attacked." "You know, my general," I replied, "that we have taken prisoner five dragoons and an officer; it is for the latter that I have come to claim your protection." "Well then," he replied, "we are going to send them to France; you know very well that we only shoot brigands caught red-handed." "I know that, General, but I am also aware that a French emigrant would suffer the same fate, and that is what I would like to avoid for my prisoner." Then, recounting to him the life of this young man in the colours most likely to move his generous soul, supported above all by the letters he had written to General Grouchy and Count Lynch, I pleaded for his support. "Devil! but this is becoming very romantic," he said; "I must absolutely report it to my brother, and I don't really know how it will turn out; anyhow, you are a clever fellow, in making me a confidant of so serious a fact. However, I'm going to write to the Marshal, and if he gets too worked up, we'll have your protégé escape. Please recommend to him the utmost silence on everything that concerns him; may he trust in my desire to please you and my intention not to allow a compatriot who has gone astray to perish miserably. Return to your outposts and guard us well."

What I dare already say, judging from this conversation alone, is that Pierre had a very different tone with his subordinates than his older brother. But with regards to his brother I specifically love the phrasing "s’il se fache trop", if he gets too upset about it. Obviously Pierre was not in doubt that Jean-de-dieu would indeed get his knickers in a twist, it was just a matter of degree.

And if Monsieur le Maréchal is not on board, we’ll just take care of this matter on our own.

As it turned out, Monsieur le Maréchal was on board. But when d’Espinchal received word of this, he had been wounded in yet another skirmish and was still lying in bed.

Eight days after these various events, General Soult arrived from Daymiel, with the 5th and 10th Chasseurs, to [...] carry out a strong reconnaissance, and honoured me with a visit. He found me still weak from the amount of blood I had lost, but with the hope of returning to duty soon. He told me that our young prisoner Alfred had inspired great interest in his brother, that he had left for France with a convoy, and that, according to all appearances, he would be employed on the staff of the Grande Armée, having formally declared that he would rather suffer the consequences of his position than bear arms against Spain. This dignified and honourable conduct and his energetic refusal, far from harming him in the mind of the Duke of Dalmatia, had determined the Duke, on the contrary, to grant him his protection.

Unfortunately, this seems to be the end of Alfred’s story, I could not find any further reference.

[starter-library]

Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio Lyric Starters

EDIT AS YOU SEE FIT

My Son

“You are my shining sun; My moon, my stars, my clear blue daylight sky”

“If you looked at me today my heart would heal so fast”

“If you held me right away I’d be complete at last”

“You are my favorite, favorite thing. Better than sunset, better than spring”

“You bring me joy, you make me sing in the morning, in the evening too”

“You are everything to me and I love you”

“My son, my son. You are my golden sun”

Everything is New To Me

“All the things my eyes can see, Everything is new to me”

“What do you call it?”

“What to do with it?”

“I love it, I love it!”

“The world is rich with funny words, They ring like bells, those tiny words”

“They dance in my mind like a chorus line, Those silly words of mine”

“Alright- alright that’s enough”

We Were a King Once

“We were a king once Can we be king twice?”

“We were bathing in milk, Played for diamonds and silk once. But we want it twice”

“My show was a magnet for the crowd”

“You were the kings once. Mon Dieu, was it nice”

“You were knights of the night, full of glory and might once. So let’s get it twice”

“We need an ace, a prince, a hero with no fears, no tears, no shame”

“We lit big fat hills of one hundred-dollar bills once. Can we do it twice?”

“Believe in you. Believe in me.”

My Bubblegum

“I scream, I cry for ice cream and for pie”

“if I ate a few gummies I still would eat a ton”

“You are everything to me and I love you”

“I’m free as the wind, No, I’m flying!”

“Your son is happy to have fun”

The Late Lamented

“Thou art gone, thy life hast fled. All shall now bewail the dead”

“No more flesh and no more bone. No more trouble to bemoan”

“Like a wave along the shore, you have passed, you will complain nevermore”

“The late, late lamented. For death can’t be prevented”

“No more feast, Now rest in peace”

“No more pain, You can’t complain”

Ciao Papa

“Time has come to say farewell”

“For how long will I go? Is it far? No one knows, no one can tell”

“If I am gone for a long, long time, I’ll pack away a fine piece of shine”

“I am ready to go, going far. Now I know it will be swell”

“I shall be gone for a long, long time- Shall be picking many peaks to climb”

“Rain or shine, I’ll keep in mind your memory”

“As I gambol on my long, long climb, I hold on tight to our best of times”

“Eyes in the rain, I try to hide tears of a boy who shouldn’t cry”

“Forevermore I’ll keep in mind your memory”

Fatherland March

“I fight for the land, I fight oversea, I’ll fight up to the end”

“The horizon in sight, stand up, follow the light”

“Like an eagle soaring- Magnificent and free- I’ll be marching, on the path to victory”

“We are brave! We are young!”

Big Baby Il Duce March

“Go smell your farts and pray”

“Eat your boogers, your slime, You can also get mine”

“Eat caca, big baby, eat caca, we are strong”

Better Tomorrows

“Hop to the top of the day, the drops are easy to swallow”

“Mop your tears and mend your sorrows, do not drown your soul wishing for better tomorrows”

“You want to think bright, You want to think right”

“A star falling down doesn’t break the night”

“You want to think bright whatever you do”

“For life has a funny way of going round and round”

“You can make it right well worth a good fight”

“If some days have downs and lows, open your arms to better tomorrows”

“You want to think right- To let your heart sing on a summer night”

“Fly high with the band- Just get up and swing”

“You can make it right- Well worth a good fight”

“These are the simple things that matter”

“You make it right and your heart is bright, so let the world go how it goes”

[metamorphesque]

Oh my god, I just saw now what you posted and what happened. I am so sorry for the world's silence and so angry for this injustice. I hope you and your loved ones are safe.

Hello dear!

Thanks for your message. I really appreciate you thinking of us.

The world's silence is a song we're all too familiar with, but it doesn't make the anger hurt any less.

Anarchy—that's what's happening here at the moment. The foreign forces that stand behind our infamous pm have given him the green light, and now there's violence and unlawful arrests left and right to try and stop us from protesting against their traitorous politics.

Just to clarify, I wasn't directing the protest—I was simply a participant. It's true that sometimes doing the right thing takes precedence over staying safe, especially when it comes to the protection of your fatherland. Take care 🌻

[reinekes-fox]

Wait wait u like Fatherland by Robert Harris? Aaaah one of my fav IF creators loves my favorite book! What are the odds haha. A few months ago I managed to find and buy the 1st edition from 1992! I would post a pic of it but uhm I’m not sure if I’m allowed cuz of the flag on it xd

I love the details he provides in it I’m always so interested in the backstory of alt history and luckily he provides plenty both for the war and post war period. And also adds a map of Europe. And just how the society in Germany is structured almost 20 years later. And a cold war between the US and Germany is something that drew me in because obv the US would be to hard to beat and just how this shapes the international relations (like US covertly supplying soviets with guns to tie them down in the Urals) xd and now I’m raving I’ll stop before I quote the whole book word for word.

It’s among my favourite books!! And idk why but the movie is my comfort movie x3

Same whenever I read it I am like „hey that was this plan“ it’s a delight!

Omg what a find, I am so happy for you!!

Lol yeah you can’t share it but I can share mine!

(Tbh that’s the main reason my IFs are alternate history, only a bit altered but still, I just love the what ifs when it comes to history!! You need to do the heron route. When the unique sidestory starts it will be time travel!)

I love the way he writes the normal live! Did you read any of his other books?

What I esp love about the European map is that Ireland is whole, at least sth good in that timeline lol

[varian212]

{Books read from July 8 to July 13.}

1

Author's Name: Erich Maria Remarque

Number of Pages: 250

Summary:

War breaks out in Germany in 1914. Paul Bäumer and his classmates quickly enlist in the army to serve their fatherland. No sooner are they drafted than the first images from the battlefield show them the reality of war.

My favorite quotes:

“Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony—Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?”

''It is very queer that the unhappiness of the world is so often brought on by small men.''

(The word "queer" means here strange, unusual, or odd.)

''We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces.''

 ''We had suddenly learned to see. And we saw that there was nothing of their world left. We were all at once terribly alone; and alone we must see it through.''

“Ah! Mother, Mother! You still think I am a child - why can I not put my head in your lap and weep? Why have I always to be strong and self-controlled? I would like to weep and be comforted too, indeed I am little more than a child; in the wardrobe still hang short, boy's trouser - it is such a little time ago, why is it over?”

Thoughts on It:

The scenes where Paul returns home on leave for a short time were the hardest for me. Paul knew the place so well, yet everything seemed strange and meaningless to him. The books he had spent so much time studying for school seemed like a joke after his experience in the war.

Back home,the desire of people, especially men, to know more about the war seemed annoying to him. He had to lie to his mother that things were fine in the war, that he was safe, and that they had enough food. When the reality was exactly the opposite, there were scenes where Paul and the other soldiers had to hide their food from rats, where they had to stay buried underground until the barrage of shells stopped (the sound of which was loud and painful—a technique often used in war to keep the enemy awake as long as possible, rendering them incapable of fighting).

I think the most horrifying thing about this book is how Paul, along with the other soldiers, are made to join the army under the pretense that they are the "golden generation" that will save Germany. Of course, an idiotic phrase said just to make as many boys as possible join the army. No one prepared them for what was to come, and no one told them that they might not return home.

Next is a story about the author of the book, not a very funny one; you can skip to the next book title - City of Thieves.

Here is the quote from the beginning of the novel:

“This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war.”

Erich Maria Remarque personally met Adolf Hitler in World War I, where both fought on the German side. Over time, it is said that their relationship (which was almost nonexistent, with them exchanging only a few words) fell apart.

The war ended, and Erich Maria Remarque returned to writing. He wrote his first book, which was not very successful (titled The Dream Room). He did not become famous until 1929, after his book All Quiet on the Western Front immediately caught the public's attention with many copies sold. 

What further changed the situation was an adaptation of the novel, the first adaptation (there are now three films), released in 1930.

After this first adaptation, the authorities heard about the novel, and of course, they did not like it. Remarque's work presented exactly what they were trying to hide—that war is grotesque, irrelevant to ordinary people, and that once you leave the war (if you are lucky enough to do so), your life will never return to what it was.

Remember, this was 1930, nine years before the start of World War II. 

By 1933, the Nazi regime made it a national crime to own a copy of All Quiet on the Western Front. All copies had to be handed over to the authorities.

Joseph Goebbels (chief propagandist for the Nazi Party, and later Reich Minister of Propaganda) along with Hitler planned to go to Erich's house and kill him, considering him and his works a "threat to the ideology of the entire Nazi Party."

Fortunately, Erich was warned by his acquaintances of this murder attempt and left for the United States via Switzerland in 1939. The Nazis were not happy when they found out. But Erich lived his life continuing to write books, far from his homeland. The saddest part of this story is what happened to his younger sister, who remained in Germany.

Elfriede Scholz had to answer for her crimes as well as her brother's. Her crimes consisted of being overheard by her landlord saying that the Nazi-driven war was a lost cause, and his for writing this book.

Elfriede was judged and found guilty, and on December 16, 1943, she was beheaded, just four years after Remarque’s departure from Germany.

Erich did not know about his younger sister's death until after the war. He would dedicate his 1952 novel Spark of Life to her. The dedication was omitted in the German version of the book, reportedly because he was still seen as a traitor by some Germans.

I think the story behind this book makes it a million times more powerful, and I am sorry I did not give the book a chance until now.

Please give it a try, I don't think you'll regret it! And, of course, the latest adaptation of the film (2022) can be seen on Netflix, almost as good as the book.

Trigger Warnings!!!

Animal,death,death,gore,hospitalization,surgery,violence,war.

2

Author's Name: David Benioff

Number of Pages: 258 

Sumamry:

The plot revolves around two Russian youths; a looter and a deserter. Both crimes have the death penalty, but a high ranking colonel makes them an offer. The city is starving, but he wants a dozen eggs to make a cake. If the two of them can find these within 72 hours, he'll spare their lives.

My favorite quotes:

''You couldn't let too much truth seep into your conversation, you couldn't admit with your mouth what your eyes had seen. If you opened the door even a centimeter, you would smell the rot outside and hear the screams. You did not open the door. You kept your mind on the tasks of the day, the hunt for food and water and something to burn, and you saved the rest for the end of the war.''

“I never understood people who said their greatest fear was public speaking, or spiders, or any of the other minor terrors. How could you fear anything more than death? Everything else offered moments of escape: a paralyzed man could still read Dickens; a man in the grips of dementia might have flashes of the must absurd beauty.”

“You don't like the girl. You don't know what color eyes she has, you don't like her.”

“You're a writer. Make it up.

-What's the good news?

-Pardon?

-You said the bad news is we're going the wrong way.

-There isn't any good news. Just because there's bad news doesn't mean there's good news, too.”

“Those words you want to say right now? Don't say them.' He smiled and cuffed my cheek with something close to real affection. 'And that, my friend, is the secret to living a long life'.”

Thoughts on It:

I know some of you might not have high expectations just because it's a book written by the guy who also did Game of Thrones. That's what I thought too, until I read it and found that the atmosphere and characters he created are worth reading about and you'll find them interesting.

 Kolya, who is somewhat of a playboy, a semi-intellectual from the Soviet Union, and Lev, the protagonist, are set to spend 2 days together searching for eggs so that one of the leaders can make a cake for his daughter's wedding. (This creates a discrepancy, a sort of "let them eat cake" irony, because people are starving to death, yet this leader is thinking about a cake to please his daughter.) 

Kolya and Lev form an iconic duo, and finding eggs should be easy under normal circumstances. However, not in Leningrad, amidst a military conflict.

By the way, to be honest, I thought until the end that these guys would develop a romantic relationship. Things were becoming quite sus between them.

Although this book and All Quiet on the Western Front have much in common, City of Thieves seemed to me to be a couple of notches lighter than All Quiet On The Western Front. 

I remember when I read All Quiet On The Western Front, I had that initial feeling where I thought about how horrifying it would be for me to go through what the protagonist had experienced. Throughout the book, there are only one or two happier moments, although to say happy is an exaggeration.

All Quiet on the Western Front makes you feel powerless, it makes you believe that there is no hope left, that nothing is worth fighting for anymore.

In City of Thieves, although the atmosphere is equally brutal, equally grim, there are still some interesting moments that make you almost forget what kind of book you're reading.

I recommend reading All Quiet on the Western Front first, and then reading this one as a sort of solace.

Trigger Warnings!!!

Gun violence, Child death, Cannibalism, Blood, War, Sexual violence, Death, and Gore

3

Author's Name: Donna Tartt  

Number of Pages: 771 pages  

Summary: 

Theodore Decker was 13 years old when his mother was killed in a bombing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. The tragedy changes the course of his life, sending him on a stirring odyssey of grief and guilt, reinvention and redemption, and even love. Through it all, he holds on to one tangible piece of hope from that terrible day -- a painting of a tiny bird chained to its perch.

My favorite quotes:

“Every new event—everything I did for the rest of my life—would only separate us more and more: days she was no longer a part of, an ever-growing distance between us. Every single day for the rest of my life, she would only be further away.”

“We looked at each other. And it occurred to me that despite his faults, which were numerous and spectacular, the reason I’d liked Boris and felt happy around him from almost the moment I’d met him was that he was never afraid. You didn’t meet many people who moved freely through the world with such a vigorous contempt for it and at the same time such oddball and unthwartable faith in what, in childhood, he had liked to call “the Planet of Earth.”

“There had been nights in the desert where I was so sick with laughter, convulsed and doubled over with aching stomach for hours on end, I would happily have thrown myself in front of a car to make it stop.”

Thoughts on It:

At first read, I loved it immediately -I felt like each part of the book had its own vibe, completely different from the rest of the story. I enjoyed Theo's life in Las Vegas; it seemed so dream-ish and reminded me somewhat and only a little bit of Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses.

Theo's character seems complex, easy to understand and relate to in some moments, but impossible in others. The way he suffered, how one moment in his life spent in the wrong room managed to drastically change his life. Some would call it destiny; I think it's something much scarier and surprising than that. I don't think I managed to fully identify with him, though. And I don't think I would do the same things he did in the book. Sometimes I think about how insignificant his life was, how he spent all these years obsessed with that painting.

I honestly think that Donna has a thing for obsessions, how they can take over your entire life, change you into someone else.

The relationship between him and Boris seemed a bit confusing, and in the end, I concluded that they were just two quite lonely people, two teenagers who needed each other when no adult was concerned about them. I liked Boris as a character; I liked how he was brought back, although his departure from the book was rather random.

I expected him to continue with Theo.

Poor Andy, though. Sometimes I read about characters and think how terrible it would be to be in their place. Andy was hurt by the thing he hated most - the irony of it all.

Another character I liked was Hobie. Reminding me of Harold Stein from A Little Life, Hobie falls into that category of super chill characters who help the main character heal, become better, even if with a small, almost insignificant fragment. I really think Hobie managed to make Theo's life better and was one of the few normal adults in the book.

Pippa, I don't have much to say about her. An okay character, although the interactions between her and Theo seemed cringy (I think because of Theo). I found it interesting that even though Theo grows up and is no longer the same 13-year-old boy from the beginning, his life seems not to have moved on. He still thinks about Pippa and has a connection to the ring he took from Hobie's partner, and most importantly, Theo continues to think about the painting all those years - as if Theo never left the explosion, and he relives it over and over.

Of course, there are a few things in the book that were a bit dragged out and made me give it only 3,5 stars. Some descriptions were too long and unnecessary, to the point where I forgot what was happening and had to go back a few pages.

Here I'm referring to everything except the description of the work Hobie,(and then Theo too) did. Reading all those descriptions reminded me of another book that you might like if you enjoyed this one, namely The Lost Painting: The Quest for a Caravaggio Masterpiece by Jonathan Harr. It's about a lost and found painting, about all the beautiful work of restoring them (take notes, Theodore Decker ).

On the other hand, I wish some aspects were explained more. There's that contrast again between the multitude of descriptions of insignificant things and the aspects the author doesn’t address but should.

For example, I would have liked the dynamic between Hobie and Welty to be discussed more, but I understand that the events are narrated from Theo's perspective, who is too preoccupied with his own dramas and experiences. 

One scene that left me confused is this one;

“Tell Hobie to get out of the store,” he (Welty) said thickly.

In disbelief, I watched the blood trickling bright from the corner of his mouth. He’d loosened his tie by yanking at it; “here,” I said, reaching over to help, but he batted my hands away.

“He’s got to close the register and get out!” he rasped. “His father’s sending some guys to beat him up—”

-Page 44

Why is there no further mention of this throughout the book, and why doesn’t Theo tell Hobie what Welty told him, that his father had sent some boys to beat him up? I want to believe that maybe Welty was just in too much pain and not fully aware of what he was saying, maybe some flashbacks from the past?

Anyway,another issue I had with the book was the ending, which felt a bit too Hollywood movie-like for me.

I think it could have ended differently and better, without the final section of the book feeling like a Russian mafia x Depressed and obsessed after a painting boy fanfiction with the tag "dead dove do not eat" and "hurt/comfort."

The book seemed so perfect to me until then that I probably would have given it 5 stars (and so far, I've only given one book 5 stars in my entire life). I've seen other opinions saying they found it interesting, I couldn't swallow it.

I plan to wait a few years before reading the book again; I'm pretty sure my opinion will dramatically change, and this is just my immediate reaction to it all.

Overall, this book had the premise to be a masterpiece, but it turned out to be just a very good book. 

Trigger Warnings!!!

Death,depression,drug abuse (heavy),suicidal thoughts,attempted suicide,terrorism

4

Author's Name: John Edward Williams

Number of Pages: 278

Summary :

The novel follows the life of William Stoner, his career as an academic teacher in literature, the relationship with his wife, Edith, the affair with his work colleague, Katherine, and his relationship with his daughter, Grace.

My favorite quotes :

"He carried this feeling of loss with him throughout the graduation exercises."

"She continued to talk, and after a while he began to hear what she was saying. Years later it was to occur to him that in that hour and a half on that December evening of their first extended time together, she told him more about herself than she ever told him again. And when it was over, he felt that they were strangers in a way that he had not thought they would be, and he knew that he was in love." 

“He was forty-two years old, and he could see nothing before him that he wished to enjoy and little behind him that he cared to remember.”

“He listened to his words fall as if from the mouth of another, and watched his father’s face, which received those words as a stone receives the repeated blows of a fist.”

“Because in the long run' Stoner said, 'it isn't Edith or even Grace, or the certainty of losing Grace, that keeps me here; it isn't the scandal or the hurt to you or me; it isn't the hardship we would have to go through, or even the loss of love we might have to face. It's simply the destruction of ourselves, of what we would do'.”

Thoughts on It:

You don’t need much information before starting the novel, only that it is good enough to deserve everyone’s attention.

The summary doesn’t quite do the book justice, it is simply about the life of Stoner, first a student, then a university professor. In essence, not much happens, and most scenes are predictable. I think this is what makes the book so good—it presents the life of a man. Not a very happy life, not much, but still a life.

Stoner's relationship with Edith, his wife, is complex and difficult to understand. Certain behaviors of Edith suggest she might suffer from some mental illnesses, but these are never addressed further in the book, likely due to the period in which the book is set (pre-WWI to a few years after WWII).

Their relationship seemed sad to me, one that no one would want to have. Stoner tried, I believe, to be a good husband and father. I’m not sure how well he succeeded, nor how much he actually tried.

If I were to recommend just one book out of these four, it would definitely be Stoner, as seen in the rating.

Although I just finished the book, I am sure I will reread it soon. Now I understand what people mean when they say they have a comfort book.

Trigger Warnings!!!

Themes of sexual violence, ableism and alcoholism

Moderate ones : Abandonment, War, Body shaming, Pregnancy, Alcoholism, Fatphobia, and Gaslighting.

[orthodoxadventure]

Finally comes the last day, usually called "Forgiveness Sunday," but whose other liturgical name must also be remembered: the "Expulsion of Adam from the Paradise of Bliss." This name summarizes indeed the entire preparation for Lent. By now we know that man was created for paradise, for knowledge of God and communion with Him. Man's sin has deprived him of that blessed life and his existence on earth is exile. Christ, the Savior of the world, opens the door of paradise to everyone who follows Him, and the Church, by revealing to us the beauty of the Kingdom, makes our life a pilgrimage toward our heavenly fatherland. Thus at the beginning of Lent, we are like Adam:

Adam was expelled from paradise through food; Sitting, therefore, in front of it he cried: 'Woe to me . . . One commandment of God have I transgressed, depriving myself of all that is good; Paradise holy! Planted for me, And now because of Eve closed to me; Pray to thy Creator and mine that I may be filled again by thy blossom.' Then answered the Savior to him: 'I wish not my creation to perish; I desire it to be saved and to know the Truth; For I will not turn away from him who comes to Me. . .'

Lent is the liberation of our enslavement to sin, from the prison of "this world." And the Gospel lesson of this last Sunday (Matt 6:14-21) sets the conditions for this liberation. The first one is fasting -- the refusal to accept the desires and urges of our fallen nature as normal, the effort to free ourselves from the dictatorship of flesh and matter over the spirit. To be effective, however, our fast must not be hypocritical, a "showing off." We must "appear not unto men to fast but to our Father who is in secret." The second condition is forgiveness -- "If you forgive men their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you." The triumph of sin, the main sign of its rule over the world, is division, opposition, separation, hatred. Therefore, the first break through this fortress of sin is forgiveness: the return of unity, solidarity, love. To forgive is to put between me and my "enemy" the radiant forgiveness of God Himself. To forgive is to reject the hopeless "dead-ends" of human relations and to refer them to Christ. Forgiveness is truly a "breakthrough" of the Kingdom into this sinful and fallen world.

More under the Readmore

Lent actually begins at Vespers of that Sunday. The unique service, so deep and beautiful, is absent from so many of our churches! Yet nothing reveals better the "tonality" of Great Lent in the Orthodox Church; nowhere is better manifested its profound appeal to man.

The service begins as solemn Vespers with clergy in bright vestments. The hymns (stichira) which follow the Psalm "Lord, I have cried . . ." announce the coming of Lent and, beyond Lent, the approach of Pascha!

Let us begin the time of fasting in light! Preparing ourselves for the spiritual efforts. Let us purify our soul; let us purify our body. As from food, let us abstain from all passion and enjoy the virtues of the spirit, so that perfected in time by love We may all be made worthy to see the Passion of Christ and the Holy Pascha In spiritual joy!

Then comes, as usual, the Entrance with the evening hymn: "O Gladsome Radiance of the holy glory. . ." The celebrant then proceeds to the "high place" behind the altar for the proclamation of the evening Prokeimenon which alwyas announces the end of one and the beginning of another day. This day's Great Prokeimenon announces the beginning of Lent:

Turn not away Thy face from Thy servant for I am afflicted! Hear me speedily. Attend to my soul and deliver it!

Listen to the unique melody of this verse -- to this cry that suddenly fills the Church: ". . . for I am afflicted!" -- and you will understand this starting point of Lent: the mysterious mixture of despair and hope, of darkness and light. All preparation has now come to an end. I stand before God, before the glory and the beauty of His Kingdom. I realize that I belong to it, that I have no other home, no other joy, no other goal; I also realize that I am exiled from it into the darkness and sadness of sin, "for I am afflicted!" And finally, I realize that only God can help in that affliction, that only He can "attend to my soul." Repentance is, above everything else, a desperate call for that divine help.

Five time we repeat the Prokeimenon. And then, Lent is here! Bright vestments are put aside; lights are extinguished. When the celebrant intones the petitions for the evening litany, the choir responds in the lenten "key." For the first time the lenten prayer of St. Ephraim accompanied by prostrations is read. At the end of the service all the faithful approach the priest and one another asking for mutual forgiveness. But as they perform this rite of reconciliation, as Lent is inaugurated by this movement of love, reunion, and brotherhood, the choir sings the Paschal hymns. We will have to wander forty days through the desert of Lent. Yet at the end shines already the light of Easter, the light of the Kingdom.

--Rev Dr. Alexander Schmemann: Great Lent - Journey to Pascha

[spiced-ciderr]

Hello

I saw your reader x DCA masterlist and I wanted to say that it helped me find some really good fics in there ✨

but I have a question do you have any DCA fics or AU's that you made or wrote

just trynna collect as much fics as possible like shiny rocks for my collection

you have no idea how happy I am to rant abt this YEA I have an au AND a fic in the works!!!

the main premise is sun is an heir to the throne of insert fictitious land here and he was created by the wonderful king afton to end the war between the rebellion between the off colors and the automatons

off colors are basically bots that just. didn’t make the cut

humans are also mixed into the group, basically just everyone that wasn’t accepted into the king’s “perfect” empire

well as it turns out the leader of the rebellion (the napcap himself, moon moon) is GASP working with the prince!!! sun and moon are secretly working together to take down the throne because MOON was actually the og sun but he was kicked out into the off colors for “making disparaging remarks about the kingdom and committing treason”

SO sun and moon would secretly like be meeting up and stuff right and exchange information

this is where reader enters

reader is COMPLETELY brainwashed and is totally 100% down for the kingdom and accidentally stumbles upon a series of secret notes passed between the celestial crown princes and is like. oh damn they’re conspiring against our fatherland

after successfully landing a conference with the king himself (reader comes from a noble family and ofc his trusted advisor Vanessa is there to oversee it) reader is like.

hey man, this isn’t very cash money so the king is like. well. since you’re the own who discovered this little secret I’m gonna have to get rid of you sorry shawty I can’t have anyone knowing I’m not super cool and reader is like. wait what if I got more info for you?? what if I was like a super cool spy and joined the off colors and the king is like okay yeah sure but you’re on borrowed time so

SO READER JOINS THE REBELLION AND GETS KINDA CLOSE WITH MOON AND HAS TO REPORT TO THE KING BI WEEKLY ON WHAT THEY LEARNED

mEANWHILE reader also becomes friends with sun after totally not intentionally bumping into him a few times in the palace (reader stays there so afton can keep an eye on them)

BUT THEN SUN FAKES HIS DEATH and when reader pops up at the next rebellion meeting and sees sun standing next to moon it ✨goes down ✨

Behold! the knights in shining napcaps au

it’s a wip and there’s a few plot holes that need fixing but it’s my baby

what about afton??? what about vanesssa?? do the twins know reader is working for the king??? does the king know about sun going corrupt???

stay tuned ;)) (ref sheets coming soon))

[myrfing]

like I GET people were and are weird about garleans not reacting in a 100% gratifying way and i also think the garlean reaction is realistic. but none of these questions are i think relevant to the core of the issue with the writing this is just baseline…yes the theme is trauma and they want to address trauma. the question is if/how/why. and who does this grace come from and why is it framed the way it is. i know im being like Well I Didnt to some guy who legit cant read my posts or whatever but i dont even see these questions as the crux of the general argument and only see them in sort of playthrough eyeroll mostly rhetorical frustrated sentiments in response to how the player is made to deal with them in a certain prescribed way. also these self-congratulatory takes are so quick to be like There is no referencing off of real historical events they intend to only deal with a single enclosed subject in a bubble. i do actually agree to an extent in that they don’t intend to directly, but disagree because I think they cannot escape their own influences and their own lens in which they see the world. that’s why you’re getting a What if the world was made of pudding type of writing with garlemald because biased writers (as are all writers) are attempting to write a near universally appealing storyline taken from a thread that has oscillated wildly over the years in terms of political commitment by picking up and repurposing what they have observed about real life and transforming them into disjointed elements in a fantasy story to write a Pain Begets Pain narrative that takes events that DO NOT WORK outside their real historical context and twists them and omits large parts of them to fit a fantasy. yes this will rub people the wrong way and come off as dishonest. it is dishonest to cling to a fantasy that something that at least resembles a fascist state was made that way by the people it then retaliated against. regardless of authorial intent this is a fucking weird and deluded and self-assuaging narrative that gets dropped with absurd conviction in a lot of media and serves people in no real way because it has no basis in reality, except to exonerate yourself as a member of an imperial power to say well, we were just unlucky and got traumatized first. we were like this because an outsider fucked us up first. especially when you then have to omit a canon statement that, while from a biased subject (fourchenault) correctly observes the most solid tidbit about the situation that the garlean fantasy of a national fatherland Of Garleans and in an innate nation was false. plenty of nations believe and push the idea that their nation is ancient and sanctified by its apparent immortal nature or mandated by the divine but they are not. yes it was far more likely that the land the garleans believe themselves entitled to was not their god given holy land and just a geographical area filled with myriad peoples who did not even have an idea of the definition of “Garlemald” at the time some were exiled northwards. and also frankly i think throwing down “it’s trauma and radicalization” says nothing that nobody already knows on some level nor do i think it paints the entire picture. aaand also you can’t so cleanly seperate the state from its people and especially when you in the other breath prescribe national trauma as the end be all explanation for Why things got so fucked. Which in this game it’s evil wizard by the way so why am I even talking about this. alright I just peeled a tangerine and there was a moldy side.