#yes it’s a greek tragedy should I have predicted it

[writtenendings]

just finished the song of achilles by madeline miller. also just finished an hour of loudly sobbing while the audiobook played. i love multitasking.

[fbfh]

Francis Wilkerson crushing on (obsessing over) you hcs

wc: 1k

pairing: francis wilkerson x gn!babysitter!reader

warnings: (canon) obsessive behavior from francis but reader is into it (against their better judgement /hj), pinning against wall, begging, francis being pathetic for you /pos, reader is trying to be professional lol

summary: Francis knew his mom hired a new babysitter to look after his brothers, but he didn't expect you to be so... perfect. now he has an impossible to manage crush on you.

song rec: obsessed with you - the orion experience

a/n: oh look another obscure heartthrob there are no fics for!! literally how did we get the scene of hal telling the boys what their relationships will be like and that Francis canonically has that gene and have no one simp loudly for him. yes I know this show went off the air years ago and I don't care. also full disclosure, I haven't watched much malcolm in the middle but I think I have a pretty good grasp on the characters let me know if anyone's ooc lmao

@yesv01

Okay starting off strong 

The scene

The Scene?????

Are you fucking kidding me???

So we know he's a bit of a trouble maker 

That's putting it lightly 

But the fact is Francis is not afraid to get his hands dirty 

He is not at all afraid to get fucking messy

And you know having Lois as his mom is more than enough reason for him to be straight up feral

As Hal said, the men in their family have a habit that makes them a little unstable (and very desperate) in relationships 

It's giving greek tragedy curse 

So if you've ever wanted a hot slightly unhinged obsessive pathetic hot mess boyfriend 

Francis is the one for you 

Okay maybe boyfriend isn't quite the right word 

He’s not “technically” your boyfriend yet

But he’s hellbent on getting there eventually

He just has to warm you up a little first

Prove that he would be such a good boyfriend that you couldn’t say no

He just has to really plead his case, tell you how he feels

He figures if he’s up front and honest, lays his cards on the table

If he tells you he’s fallen for you, all the amazing traits he admires about you and that he thinks you could have some great chemistry

That he’d really love to get to know you better 

That he has a good shot at you agreeing to go on a date with him

It’s a solid plan

So he’s not sure how he ends up literally begging you on his knees, arms around your waist and kissing your stomach after getting rejected a dozen times in like two days

He thinks of something smart but every time he opens his mouth something erratic (and probably a red flag) comes out

He didn’t see this coming

No one did except Hal and Lois

Hal should start offering relationship tarot readings because in that minute and a half speech to his kids, he not only predicted Malcolm's first relationship 

But Francis's too

He's hooked up before, had flings here and there 

But he's never really liked anyone 

Until he sees you, the new babysitter Lois hired 

You're so sweet 

You're responsible, make good grades, and actually have a modicum of common sense 

Lois is hoping you're just what her boys need

Francis is often out of the house doing god knows what 

One of the reasons Lois hired you to begin with 

So it's a little while before Francis actually meets you 

But when he does?? 

Holy hell brace yourself 

When Francis sees you it changes his fucking brain chemistry 

He grabs his brothers and is like "That's the babysitter???"

"Yeah??"

"So you just forgot to mention how hot they are???" 

They did not expect this kind of reaction from him

He pays Dewey five bucks to sneak into your bag and see he can find out what body spray or lip gloss or cologne you use 

Dewey somehow manages to get in and out of your bag without you noticing

“What’s it called?” Francis asks, needing to satisfy the burning urge to know what you smell like up close

“Twilight… twilight something.” Dewey says, trying to remember. “I think it was… twilight sedation. Yeah, that’s it.” 

Francis looks over at you

“Twilight sedation…” he says dreamily

It’s twilight forest, but who’s counting

Francis needs to be around you as much as possible

Being home more than usual won’t be a problem, he thinks

He’s not responsible enough for Lois to let him watch his brothers unsupervised without utter chaos anyway, so it’s not like you’ll stop coming over

So now when you’re babysitting his brothers

When you’re making mac and cheese or helping them with their homework

He’ll find little moments to steal you away

Every time he fully intends to have a conversation with you 

Banter, build a rapport, get to know you better

And every time he ends up shamelessly coming onto you

And usually ends with him pinning you to a wall begging you to let him kiss you

Just once

Please, just once, just one time

And every time you manage to slip away and go back to what you were doing

Helping his brothers with video game levels and homework 

And every time, it leaves him wanting you more and more and more

You think he’s just messing with you at first

But you can’t deny the sincerity of his face and voice and body language

He’s burning for you

Aching for you

And it’s a little overwhelming to say the least

Especially with how out of the blue it is

You want to just have a normal conversation but always end up with him much closer to you than you expect

So you panic and slip away

And so begins the enticing game of cat and mouse between you that drives Francis even crazier for you than he thought was possible

Every time he promises himself he’ll play it cool, just be normal around you

And every time he ends up pinning you against the kitchen counter telling you what a good boyfriend he’ll be

Please just let him prove it

The logical part of your brain knows these should probably be red flags 

But a smaller part of you wants to see

The logical part of your brain also knows that you absolutely should not date the son of the woman you’re babysitting for 

Especially since (aside from Francis) this is the chillest cushiest babysitting job you’ve ever had

Lois was right, you’re exactly what her boys need

And since it’s impossible to get a babysitter, much less keep one, she’s paying you really well for this

So yeah

Dating her son would be a huge conflict of interest

You can’t

You absolutely cannot

But the one thing you failed to take into consideration is that you lowkey have horrible taste in men

So this thing building between you and Francis is really just a matter of time 

Then things are really going to get crazy

[pitroig]

About JJK236 (leaks), the future of the franchise, and why I have no interest in following the story from now on.

Yes, it contains spoilers.

First, I tried to wait until the official manga chapter was released because commenting on leaks is quite disrespectful to those who patiently wait for the official sources. I couldn't. Also, I wanted more time to grieve and think about Gojo's fate, but I could only last one evening. It's too much to handle, I guess.

Regarding this, I have three ideas:

What a bluff. It wasn't surprising. I mean, the whole Gojo "Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am honored" has its roots in sacred texts that refer to Buddha, but it also links the figure of Gojo to an old friend of Western mythology: Icarus. The one who tried to fly too close to the sun and got his wings melted. It's a typical Ancient Greek God punishment for hubris. I honestly thought that Gege had thought of a better outcome for such a complex character.

It's fitting, though, the afterlife scene. Most of the adult characters who have a real impact on the plot are living on borrowed time. The loss and tragedies they went through in their formative years kill their expectations and goals, and they enter autopilot mode, waiting for the next negation to take over. So yes, Gojo comes back to his last growing moment. And I think he will be stuck in there forever, not matter if he goes north or south.

He might not be dead, which also shows poor storytelling skills, quite a bummer for someone like Gege. I mean, he already had a miraculous recovery from death. Two is too close to a joke. Tsk, tsk, Mr. Akutami: if you create a character that has the essence and quality to become a deus ex machina, you have to think ahead about a proper demise, or at least a proper closing - and achievement, a sacrifice - for him. If not, you are throwing yourself into the clutches of bad writing.

That’s the reason why I’m done with JJK.

JJK has lost its unique storytelling and my favorite character is also dead, an in consequence I am not going to keep reading it.

And that's fine. 

Authors must deal with this: brave, true-to-yourself decisions might face disagreement from some people. Fans should also be able to move on. 

My problem is not that I have lost interest in the plot - which is, in truth, what happens here. But thankfully, I still have fanfics and the anime. My problem is that I am afraid that from now on, I might predict what happens next, and I couldn't care less.

The future of the franchise.

So, until the end of the year, we are going to face many small, insignificant battles that lead to the one held on December 24th.

And then, here is my prediction.

Most of the characters will perish. My bet on the survivors: Maki, Yuuta, Yuuji, and some random people here and there. They will win, Kenjaku and Sukuna will be sealed or something like that, but after that, there won't be more jujutsu world. No more cursed energy. The survivors will have to deal with some curses-related issues around the globe, but they will be able to live a normal life that will, honestly, suck.

It's going to be hard to read and difficult to accept. After all the exhausting emotional stress that comes with being a fan of this franchise, I think it's time to move on and catch up with it in a few months.

In the meantime, I will enjoy the fandom.

Until the fandom is extinguished.

But that's also fine.

I am happy to have crossed paths with JJK anyway.

[painless-innit-colourful]

“Are you coming?” “Yes, sorry, I’m here now.”

Wilbur’s belt is heavy on his waist, but his general feeling is surprisingly light. He jogs towards Dream up the hill beside the wreckage of L’Manberg, and when the wind blows, it stirs the ash lying thick on the ground, making it appear like the crater is still smoking.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” “Yeah, um,” Wilbur pauses a moment to catch his breath and summon his courage, his hand resting on the extra scabbard tied haphazardly around his hips. For the greater good.

For Tommy.

“Just a second, Dream.” The mask tilts in his direction as he unbuckles the scabbard and holds it out to Dream. It feels like a reversal of an old trade. He summons the man he was then, calling his way with words to his lips. Dream unsheathes the blade and regards it with what he’d guess is appreciation? It’s hard to tell around the mask, but the crisp sharpness and the enchantments are the best he could find to be on offer. And he knows Dream has an axe, but there’s a different best tool for every job. After a moment in which only the wind whispers its encouragement to him, Dream’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Damocles..?” “Ah, I couldn’t help myself. My principal vice is the inability to leave things without their proper names.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, shrugging, playing the pretentious Pogtopian ne’er-do-well. “One of Techno’s Greek heroes?” “I’ll admit, I’ve become predictable. Yes, a classical reference, if you will.” He takes his time over the longer words, enunciating each syllable. He should’ve been an actor. It comes so easily to him.

Dream spends another moment regarding the sword before he tucks it into the scabbard and inspects that too. “I don’t know that story,” He raises his eyes, and the soulless smile of the mask meets his: Wilbur mirrors instinctively. “Remind me.”

“Oh, your average tale of fall and redemption,” He shrugs, playing off the intensity. “Damocles was a great king, made a few mistakes, misunderstood tragedy, imprisoned and left to die-” He lets his words hang for a few seconds, before continuing. “But after he was freed by an old friend, he proved himself innocent of the heinous acts he’d been accused and was forgiven in the eyes of the people, who rejoiced to have their great ruler back.” The smirk on his lips is genuine. “Forgive me; the parallel was irresistible.”

“I see,” Wilbur thinks he can hear a smile, or perhaps amusement, in Dream’s voice. Either way, well done Soot.

“Are you ready to go now?” “Yes, yes, let’s get out of this graveyard.”

Dream’s laugh is warm, easy. Wilbur sticks his hands in his pockets as he walks, appearing totally at ease in his lack of armour, made more significant by the spiked accents at the shoulder of Dream’s chestplate on his near side, sharp enough to take out his eye and a sizeable chunk of his frontal lobe should he trip at the wrong angle. Trust is a troublesome thing to earn - Wilbur knows that better than anybody - but he had a head start here, for once. His fingers brush against the red sticks tied in their loose bunches in the bottoms of his pockets, and he doesn’t think of the promise he made to Eret.

Trinitrotoluene. Not enough to blow up a nation, or even a house. Just enough for one person.

(Regrettably, he knows how much that is now.)

“What about yours?” Dream uses the sheathed blade in his hand to indicate the other scabbard, sitting more cohesively at Wilbur’s side as they walk. “Oh, this old thing?” He draws it, a simple blade, undecorated, unremarkable. There’s still a name on the hilt though, and without being able to see his eyes, Wilbur can tell Dream’s looking at it. “What did you name yours?”

“Oh, yes,” He laughs warmly, snatching his fingers from the dynamite in his pocket to run through the white streak in his hair. “Apate, also a classical reference.” “Who?”

He’s not going to cause any more damage. He’s going to fix something. For the first time in his life, he’s going to cause some good destruction, regardless of what it does to him. He tilts his head, looking at Dream below his glasses.

“Apate is the personification of deceit.”

[biblioflyer]

What is Picard's narrative style?

Just sort of thinking aloud here, but I'm finding myself rather baffled by a particular sort of response to Jack Crusher that seems to be a reaction to a saccharine, uncritical adoration of him that I'm somehow completely unaware of. Maybe there's a huge area of the web that is fawning over Jack that I'm just not seeing because of the whims of the algorithm.

I have a feeling this reaction might be dependent on what framework people are looking at the show through and whether its the classic Trek framing of pulp drama and "protagonist centric morality" where Jack is somehow supposed to make us feel seen and be presumed to be correct in all things.

Which I think flies in the face of the sort of "prestige drama" framing of the streaming era where the protagonists are limited and fallible and while they may be motivated by high minded principles, adhering to those principles is not always easy: see also Crusher and Picard talking themselves into executing Vadic or Seven executing the gangster in season one, and the right course of action is not always obvious. I strongly believe that this is the more appropriate way to analyze Seasons One and Two of Picard, and I suspect Discovery becomes a richer series if one adopts this posture.

Speaking of which, this is all very reminiscent of criticism of Burnham oddly enough, which makes it extra odd and ironic because it also seems to be rooted in lingering anger over how the fandom has responded to Burnham and a perceived hypocrisy in the reception of Jack. Don't get me wrong, I got to like the guy even though I dislike both the secret lovechild trope and the messiah antichrist trope, but if I had thought I was supposed to assume he's objectively correct about everything and uber special, that would not have been the case.

If the assumption is that characters like Burnham and Jack are pulp action heroes then yes, the entire plot falls apart like a house of cards because they repeatedly do very poorly thought out things that turn out through happenstance to have been the right move after all for reasons no one could reasonably predict ahead of time. Additionally the plot winds up centering them as a key element in saving or condemning the Federation, the galaxy etc.

However! Greek tragedies involving Fate with a capital F also deal in self fulfilling prophecies and narratives that are going to fulfill themselves no matter how the characters try to resist. Some of the darkest stories humanity has ever told involved predestination paradoxes.

Which to me means that if we are to assume that modern Star Trek is more like The Expanse, Babylon 5, or even Deep Space Nine; absolutely no one should be assuming Jack is supposed to be an audience surrogate. He's just another mortal flailing his way through the story who didn't ask to be a chess piece in a Borg Xanatos gambit and, if anything, keeps trying to get people to stop dying in his stead.

People who are making these choices are very explicitly doing it not because Jack is uniquely deserving, but because he's not. The argument advanced time and again is that of solidarity. That actually the Vulcans are wrong and throwing people to the wolves because it would be more efficient from a consequentialist view is an error.

Now you don't have to buy that and I don't think Picard S3 actually did a great job of making this argument (major credit to Todd Stashwick for making what could easily have been yet another in a long line of Starfleet antagonists who have taken consequentialism too far and made him seem like the smartest guy in the room a lot of the time.)

But! If you think for instance that Turkey ought to be kicked out of NATO for its treatment of the Kurds with full recognition of the potential of earthquakes in the geopolitics of Southeastern Europe and the Middle East, or that the US is right to risk nuclear war to help Ukraine*: then there is an argument for sending a message to bad guys that there are people who will put skin in the game because its the right thing to do even if the risks are extreme. You could even make consequentialist arguments for following one's conscience that are rooted in solidarity and inspiring better behavior from others who may be inclined towards timidity.

*You are free to disagree with either of these propositions if that disagreement is rooted in reality and a legible ethical argument, I'm mainly using these as analogies rather than trying to sell the reader on them. The what, hows, whys, and other contingencies of geopolitics are fussy, the consequence vast, and I don't mean to flatten them.

Admittedly the debate over individualism vs consequentialism and Jack's narrative role is an argument that I think would have been strengthened if the series hadn't done an abrupt 180 on the recurring themes of the validity of people trying to solve problems on their own without having to be in Starfleet.

But there again, I get what was trying to be signaled by putting Jack, Raffi, and Seven on the bridge: Starfleet is turning the corner on excessive proceduralism. Which incidentally forgets that at several points in the narrative, the entire season might have been derailed if people had listened to Shaw, although I'm not unaware of the counter arguments about solidarity, humanity, and standing up to bullies....these just weren't arguments that were made well.

[meimi-haneoka]

So how powerful was Lilie, like badass powerful. She casted a spell on Nadeshiko’s watch —yet to play a role but I feel would be the “key” to get Kaito’s back, you know what I mean? Anime reference here—. So she foresaw what was coming and prepared a plan long before she even met Kaito. She probably even told Nadeshiko about him.

So she then met him and knew the role that he will be playing not only as Akiho most important person, but also in Akiho as a magical artifact. She tried to prevent it by influencing him to enjoy things, life, to find interest in something.

I see all this as desperate measures to save Akiho from his fate, but she Kaito taking no interest whatsoever made her realized she was ultimately failing so then she went to Momo as a final resort. She relinquished the ring which was given to her for protection and by doing so she became vulnerable. I am saying vulnerable because I don’t see someone as powerful as her dying in a bloody car accident or similar, like after all that foreshadowing? I believe the clan went after her and Ahiko’s father. Maybe as punishment for Ahiko’s lack of power soon after she was born. Who knows. And probably Akiho would have suffered the same fate haven’t Kaito made the dreary comment.

I found interesting that Kaito saw the ring on Lilie and should have recognized it in Momo has he fathomed a little interest. Because he knew that Lillie met Momo per his recollections. But he never realized about the ring?

Interesting facts here are that by Lilie relinquishing the ring, she allowed the future to become reality. She made herself vulnerable. Like a Greek tragedy. If she hasn’t done that, probably she would be alive. Interesting as well is that Lilie is wearing the ring in the middle finger which symbolizes responsibility, balance and soul, and not in the ringer finger as customary.

I wonder who Akiho’s father is and why he believed Lilie needed protection.

Sorry for the very long post! But would really love your thoughts!

Helloooo An! 😊 OH YES, Lilie was hella powerful, like way more powerful than Sakura at this age.........and that's probably why she had a premature death that she probably couldn't even foresee in order to avoid it (I know she knew she was gonna die at some point, but how? Knowing how could've been useful to try to avoid it, but now I really think that when the Squids were commenting "to think she could see the future in her dreams and yet she couldn't even see her own tragedy" they meant precisely that). I also think the spell she casted on Nadeshiko's watch will be the key (*wink wink*) to bring Kaito back! She surely told Nadeshiko about him, since at the end of chapter 40 she had the great idea to go visit him....and it was already clear back then that Nadeshiko wasn't there to protect her child (who didn't really risk anything with him, at any point) but rather to stop him from insisting in throwing his life away. Nadeshiko talked cryptically about stuff that happened in the past, and yet Kaito understood what she was referring to immediately, meaning that Lilie really told her *everything*.

And yes, I believe things really went as you explained. That ring being left behind might have had a role in her death, and that of her husband. I personally think it wasn't the Squids, because Akiho was probably way too little to ascertain if she had any powers or not. They said they start testing for the members capabilities as soon as they start to walk or talk...and with Akiho they still had some "patience" before going completely out of their minds, until she was capable to read. My idea is, instead, that the ones who could have set an ambush (that Lilie didn't expect, and that's why it ended up like it did) were the Association. I can't shake this feeling off my head, because little Kaito warned Lilie not once, but twice that his "colleagues" could've betrayed Lilie's clan at any moment. It almost seems like a prediction (and who better than him could say that, since he was part of that association of criminals?) Maybe they wanted to eliminate the youngest members of that clan, to cut any chance of their survival (= to send them extinct)? But Akiho survived, and so maybe the Association covered things up and pretended like they didn't have anything to do with it.

I'm not sure if Kaito knew about the ring. Like, "all" the details of it. He probably knew that Lilie had given Momo that ring (he found out once he saw Momo's plushie form) but I don't think he knew why and what for. He still wondered, at the end of chapter 60, if maybe Lilie saw all that happening in a dream. But it's better like this, because otherwise they wouldn't have had any way to bring him back.

Lastly, your comment about the meaning of wearing a ring on the middle finger is very very interesting! And yeah, I also want to know who Akiho's father is and why he believed Lilie needed protection.....maybe she told him that she saw in a dream that she hadn't much time left? ☹️

[that-gal-kay]

The End for Which We Live: Chapter One

Welcome to Part Two of Past Patiently Waiting, brought to you by @accidentally-a-writer​ and myself! This fic is going to be a great deal longer and darker than Waiting in the Wings, so strap in for a long ride!

Read it on AO3 Here 

Read Waiting in the Wings Here

Didjaknow you can come scream at us on the Hamilwhumps discord?

***

Chapter One: ever favourite object of my heart 

In Greek mythology there is a set structure to all their tragedies; it begins as it ends, with a stasis. The normal of the beginning however is never the same normal as the end, with the in between bits full of heroic sacrifice and tragic misfortunes and the like. It changes what constitutes normal. 

This, Washington supposes, is their new stasis. 

Hamilton’s recovery is going as it was predicted to go, it’s slow and painful and will probably never be complete. Every wince and clenched jaw and sharp inhale is a cruel reminder of what happened, what Washington allowed to happen. 

But it becomes normal. Hamilton has to live with the pain of his wounds and Washington has to live with the pain of his inadequacy. 

Alexander tries to hide it, he’s so desperate for that old normal, when he could work for hours upon hours on end and be fine to start again in the morning, but it just isn’t possible anymore. Washington cannot, in good conscience, allow the boy to work through his agony. 

Ordering his aide back to bed has yet to be well met.

It is not slamming doors or casting icy glares, anymore, but it seems Washington cannot make any suggestion without the boy bristling in irritation. 

He understands that Hamilton was a fiercely independent boy, that the circumstances of his upbringing demand he be independent and that he does not understand why Washington insists on his protective detail, or that he stay separate from the other aides, or the general’s anxiety to begin with - how could he? No one has ever cared for him in that way before. 

And he doesn’t know that Davies could still be alive. 

Of all things, that is what plagues Washington the most, not only because it plays a much larger threat to Alexander’s safety than the general threat of the Britsh knowing the boy’s worth, but also because Washington knows the secrecy will be seen as a betrayal and in that regard Hamilton would be right. 

Two months after the incident and they’re still circling each other, closer than before perhaps, but simultaneously worlds apart, and they try and get on with their lives. Hamilton wants to move on, and Washington cannot. He cannot until he knows that it is truly over.

The sun is barely risen when Washington enters the office, and yet there is Hamilton, at his table, candle nearby, and hard at work on a draft of something or other. “Your Excellency,” Hamilton greets, moving to rise from his seat.

Washington catches the faintest flush of the boy’s cheeks, the tick in his jaw when he clenches his teeth as he shifts his position.

“No need, Hamilton,” he motions for the boy to stay where he is. 

Hamilton tenses and just barely glances in Washington’s direction before he settles back in his chair. “You’re up early, sir,” he says before the general can question how he’s feeling.

Washington holds in a chuckle. This is so normal. The old normal, a state and time he’d give anything to return to. “Plenty of work to be done, Hamilton.”

“As always, sir.”

“Indeed, and yet you insist on working like the work is all for you.” Washington watches as Hamilton’s mouth pulls into a half smile. He’s seen the boy dig through incoming notes and reports. Hamilton is always the first to it and he always ensures to take the most vital information to copy before anything else.

“If I write fast enough it will be, sir.” The general tuts disapprovingly but says no more, opting to go to his own desk and begin tackling his workload for the day.

“And will Colonel Laurens be joining us anytime soon?” 

Hamilton hums, mouth tipping upwards again. “I wouldn’t know, sir, but I don’t doubt it. Laurens wakes almost as early as I.” 

“I’m aware, and yet you both go to sleep far too late.” Washington should know, Alexander sleeps in his private quarters nowadays and Washington has found he cannot sleep if he doesn’t know Hamilton is tucked in his bed.

“Force of habit, Your Excellency.” Hamilton shuffles his papers, looking for one in particular. “If you would just clear this draft to Congress it can be sent out with the morning messengers.” But he stands too abruptly and almost crumples in on himself with a startled gasp. Washington’s knee bangs the edge of his desk as he starts, instinctively trying to reach for Hamilton. “I’m fine,” the boy insists, daring the general to disagree.

Fine has become some new word altogether in recent weeks. It’s become Hamilton’s favorite, or just about, as he quickly dismisses any concern over a grimace or flinch. Hamilton assures Washington, Laurens, the other aides constantly, that he is fine, that he does not need help in any way. Fine means self reliance, and the boy intends to keep it that way.

Hamilton crosses the distance of the room in a few short steps to hand over his draft. An untrained eye would barely notice, but Washington sees it plain as day: the slight limp, the way his young aide holds himself to keep pressure off of his injured side. 

The general has to remind himself to believe this too: Hamilton is fine, fine, fine... 

Hamilton gently clears his throat and Washington glances up into his face, unsure of when he stopped paying attention. He reaches for the page and sets it on his desk, “Thank you, my boy. I’m sure this is fine and-”

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door. Washington and Hamilton turn in the exact same moment. “Come,” the general calls.

The door opens, and it’s another of his aides standing in the doorway. “Sir, there’s a man here requesting to see you.”

Washington cocks a brow, and he sees Hamilton almost cock his head in curiosity. People typically do not arrive unannounced and ask to see the army’s Commander in Chief. “Who, exactly?”

“A delegate from Congress, sir. He asks for a few minutes of your time,” the other aide looks from Washington to Hamilton and back. “And he asks that the two of you speak alone.”

There are at least half a dozen letters from Congress piled on Washington’s desk, unanswered in these last months. They should all be answered, but finding the will to focus has been difficult as of late. Washington is not eager to explain himself to a delegate. Congress knows now what happened, the whole story. Even so, he cannot turn a delegate away.

Washington stands from his desk with a heavy sigh, absently straightening his coat. He glances at Alexander with a half smile. “You’ve earned yourself an hour’s time off,” he holds up a hand when the boy opens his mouth to protest. “Neither of us have any say here, hm? I’ll send for you once we’re finished.”

Hamilton’s shoulders visibly slump, but he nods slowly. “Yes, sir,” and the boy sees himself out of the room without argument. 

“See this delegate in then,” Washington commands, straightening his posture and broadening his shoulders, ever the picture of authority. The aide nods and rushes away, returning not a minute later with the aforementioned delegate, after escorting him into the office the aide wastes no time in taking his leave.

“Your Excellency,” the man begins, tipping his head in respect, “I hope the day finds you well.” 

“I wouldn’t know sir,” Washington extends his hand, the delegate takes it easily enough, “I’ve  not yet found out.” 

“Yes, I apologize for the abruptness of my visit, and the hour, but the matter at hand is one of some urgency.” 

“Oh?” Many matters of Congress are of some level of urgency, but they are rare to send a delegate. “Please, have a seat, Mister…” 

“Brown. Thank you,” the delegate sits opposite Washington, and reaches into his coat almost nervously. 

“I do apologize for the tardiness of my replies to Congress… there’s been quite a backlog the past few weeks and-” 

“That is not why I am here, General. Congress understands that there were far more compromising circumstances taking your attention at the time.” Washington does not like this man’s tone at all, there is a however coming and he can feel it. “However, as of late there’s been concerns amongst the congressmen regarding… mishaps in correspondences sent from your office to ours.” 

“Errors?” Washington is diligent with what he signs his name to, what he allows the aides to send to Congress, for there to be errors made frequently enough to send a delegate is a curious thing.

“Yes, Your Excellency, in the past three weeks or so.” That’s when Alexander returned to work. “It is no slight against you… nor any of your aide-de-camps actually,” the delegate is quick to amend, hastily pulling a bundle of missives from his coat. “But the mistakes being made have become too grave to ignore. It is understandable, of course, that his work would decline after what happened-” 

“He?” But Washington already knows, he can feel it. The general hears his heart pound against his ear and feels ice pool in his stomach but betrays nothing on his countenance. 

“Alexander Hamilton sir, he- it is only his messages which have been found to show such errors.” 

Washington blinks, once, twice. Hamilton. They’re here about Hamilton; Hamilton making mistakes specifically, and that thought is hard to comprehend. Alexander provokes Congress sometimes, his writing too blunt and quick to portray his anger at their inaction, but- he doesn’t make mistakes. 

“Surely there is some mistake, Colonel Hamilton is one of my best aides.” 

“Yes, your primary aide, correct?” Brown’s fingers thumb nervously at the papers. Washington nods his confirmation, a bit more curt now, his eyes a little more icy. “It is just his handwriting sir, I have a few here.” 

Brown opens the parchment, offering it to Washington. There is no malice behind his eyes, but there is hard determination which bodes ill for Washington. He takes the offering and scans it as Brown continues speaking. 

“The boy was copying notes and reported two hundred soldiers, there were two thousand. If you had had men act on this there would have been a bloodbath and a devastating loss of resources.” 

What the delegate says is true, Washington can see that it’s so. He doesn’t know what to say. He scans the letter again and again as Brown continues.

“He’s reported supplies tracked to the wrong towns, incorrect counts of men and arms protecting our cities. I’m certain Colonel Hamilton does not mean these mistakes, Your Excellency, but they could cause significant damage, or even doom our cause. Surely sir, you examine his reports before they’re sent to Congress.”

Washington opens his mouth, and abruptly closes it again. He hasn’t needed to check the boy’s work in ages. Weeks after convincing Hamilton to join his staff the general realized he had a knack for writing his exact intentions in the very way he meant to say it. The boy is brilliant. He doesn’t make mistakes like this, and yet the proof is in Washington’s hand right this very moment.

“I think you’ll agree sir, with the potential cost a mistake like this could inflict upon our cause,” Brown trails off and clears his throat.

“Yes?” Washington lets the letter drop to his desk and looks up with a knot of dread building in his gut. He knows now exactly where this is going.

“Some congressmen agree, sir, that perhaps Colonel Hamilton has returned to his work too soon. No one doubts his integrity, but this cannot continue to happen. Some men suggest that perhaps Hamilton take more time to recover, or if not…”

“What?”

“An honorable discharge.”

“No.”

Washington knows he responds too quickly even before Brown quirks a brow. He’s too protective of the boy, especially now. If he refuses to do anything about this, he knows the rumors will start to fly in Congress. There’s been talk before, that Washington spoils Hamilton, treats him like a son, doesn’t rein him in even when the boy speaks to gentlemen who vastly outrank him.

And now those rumors will turn to Washington protecting the boy, shielding him from his own mistakes while ignoring his own duty to their cause. That cannot happen. Talk will turn to replacing Washington because of an inability to focus on his duties while so driven to care for the poor orphan boy at his side.

That cannot happen either.

“General Washington, please understand that Congress, while sympathetic, does not take mistakes such as these lightly. If the boy’s traumas are too much for him to be able to properly do his work then the only course of action available is relinquishing him of those duties.” 

“Colonel Hamilton is an excellent worker, his use of the English language-” 

“Was formidable yes, and we know that you two are… close.” There it is, maybe as close as this man will get to insinuating Washington cannot be objective. “But the efforts of the war outweigh the desires of one boy.” 

“I’ll not discharge him for-” 

“Men are discharged for war injuries frequently, there is no dishonour in it. Hamilton sustained severe injuries on your behalf,” Washington’s fingers tighten against the arm rests, “and on behalf of the cause, and there is a great deal of respect for a boy so young to endure so much. He’ll be compensated, it will be a comfortable life, but we cannot allow mistakes like these to continue.” 

“I understand that but Hamilton had a promising future within the ranks, I’m loathe to even consider taking that from him.” Perhaps it is saying too much, but the idea of firing Hamilton, sending him away from the army after everything he went through in its service is unfathomable.

Washington knows how Hamilton will see this, if he is sent away the boy’s ambition will shatter. Finding a legacy for himself is all he’s wanted since he was a boy, by Alexander’s own omission. 

And it won’t be safe; Davies is out there somewhere and the only thing keeping Hamilton safe is the protection of the base, of Washington himself, if he loses that then it will be far too easy to simply take him. Take him like he’d wanted to out in that clearing and do what he’d threatened with the talk of games and playing and screams- 

“I’m sorry to be blunt, Your Excellency, but Congress demands you do more than consider it.” 

Washington quashes that growing panic in his chest and tightens his jaw. “I will address Colonel Hamilton’s mistakes, and chart a course of action to rectify his process in the future, but he will not be discharged.” 

“If he is incompetent-” 

“I assure you, he is not.” 

“You must understand that the Commander in Chief to the army cannot have a primary aide who cannot do his work correctly. If you do not want to discharge him that is your decision, for now, but Hamilton will not continue to work until he can do so at a level befitting your office. If you give him leave, as is your only option besides discharge, and he returns and is still unable to do his work then Congress will discharge him ourselves, and other repercussions may fall to you. So please, give it some thought.” 

Brown stands, it’s the end of their conversation and they both know it. Washington follows and offers his hand to shake, but he does so with a stony disposition and hardened gaze. Brown takes the hand and steps back, bowing to Washington. 

“Please offer my best wishes to Colonel Hamilton’s recovery.” How dare he end this meeting with well wishes to Alexander when he all but threatened Washington to fire him.

“And give my regard to Congress,” Washington grits. Brown nods and takes his leave, escorted by one of Washington’s guards. 

The general heaves a great sigh and collapses back into his chair, drumming his fingers over the missives which were surely to be the cause of many a headache; it is true that if any other man made these mistakes they would be fired immediately, but not Hamilton. 

Maybe Washington pushed too hard, even inadvertently, for everything to just go back the way it was and Hamilton wasn’t ready. It’s alright though, everything is fine fine fine, he will simply insist that Hamilton take a few more weeks to recover and begin checking his work more closely when he does return. 

Hamilton might resent it but that’s fine, Hamilton will accept it if he wants to remain a member of staff. He has to. 

Because if he doesn’t and he’s forced away from the army, from Washington, and Davies finds out- 

He will. Everything will be alright. It will be fine. 

Fine. 

…

Hamilton, despite his previous assurances, is sleeping like the dead when Washington ascends the stairs. After the conversation he just had, Washington does not want to simply send someone to collect the boy, he needs to see him for himself. 

He opens the door slowly, expecting the soft, rhythmic breathing that has coaxed him to sleep the past few weeks. Alexander lays on top his covers, on his good side, and looks completely at peace. He hasn’t looked at peace, even in sleep, for seven weeks. 

Washington debates letting him rest, and leaving the unpleasant conversation to come for later. In the end, he decides to just let him sleep, but ever in his Alexander way, the boy chooses the opposite. 

His eyes blink open naturally, without hurry, and he doesn’t start awake like he might’ve in the first few days of him staying in Washington’s quarters. Instead he groans and blinks away his sleep in its entirety before sitting up. 

“You might feel so refreshed if you rested more than three hours a night,” Washington comments light-heartedly, pouring Alexander a glass of water and then one for himself. “Or if you more oft took my advice and retired for an hour throughout the day.” 

Alexander sips his water without comment, but his lip pulls into a little grin against the glass, which is comment enough for Washington. 

“I’m not yet of the age that I require daily naps,” Alexander grins, the unspoken like you hanging in the air. 

“Cheeky,” the general tuts, content to watch the boy at ease for a little while longer. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“And always will be.” Hamilton shifts towards the edge of the bed, but stays sitting atop it. He can’t stand for long lengths of time. “What did the delegate want?” Washington’s mirth abruptly dissolves, which does not escape Hamilton’s notice, his brow furrowing in concern. “Is there a problem within Congress, or-” 

“It was about you, Hamilton.” Washington watches the moment the words hit the boy, the moment they sink in. 

“Me?” 

“Yes,” the general swallows heavily, “they believe you may have returned to work prematurely.” 

Hamilton’s face flushes. “And who are they to say so?! What basis do they have to make such a claim?!” 

“You’ve made mistakes Alexander, you’ve made grievous mistakes which could have had devastating effects on the army.” The words feel like lead in Washington’s mouth. 

“What?” Hamilton’s eyes grow wide, and Washington can almost see his breath stall. “What mistakes? Your Excellency, I double check all of my work, there must be some misunderstanding.”

“I… I saw the missives, son, in your handwriting and- and there were errors.” 

“Then there must have been errors in the original notes I transcribed because I copy them perfectly, I know I do.” 

It irks Washington a bit that the boy refuses to take responsibility for his mistakes. He’s made it clear that he’s not angry with Hamilton. His chief aide can be irritating, arrogant at times, and having seen the missives, it cannot be dismissed now.

“No, Alexander.” Washington sighs. “It’s okay to make mistakes, maybe I pushed you too hard, or allowed you to push yourself too hard to return to work, but you have to take accountability-” 

“I do! Let me see the missives, I know they are correct to the notes I was given! Sir, if I thought I was unable to do my work I would have retired myself.” 

“Would you?” Washington snaps. “That’s not your regular habit Hamilton, you work until you drop and don’t seem to have enough sense to know when it’s too much.” 

Hamilton looks as if he’s been slapped. “You’re not listening to me; I keep the notes, if you just allow me to show you-” 

“No, Alexander! The Congress called for your discharge, how you made the mistakes are neither here nor there, what matters is that they cannot happen again and I cannot be seen doing nothing about them.” 

“Discharge? You’re discharging me?!” 

“No, I’m not. You’re being placed on leave for a few more weeks, but I stalled your discharge from the ranks.” 

Hamilton sputters and abruptly stands, knocking the air from his lungs as he does so. Washington’s hands rush to steady the boy on their own accord but are angrily shaken away a moment later. 

“So you’re going to believe some unknown delegate over your primary aide-de-camp?” Is that all Hamilton is? Neither of them know, maybe that’s part of the problem. “You’ll believe them without even allowing me to try and prove to you I’m not inept at my job?” 

Washington produces the papers from his coat, much the same as Brown did not an hour ago. “Here are the missives in question, Hamilton. You wrote them and there are mistakes. Now it is understandable if you cannot focus as you once could, but at the end of the day it still means you are not ready to return to work.” 

Hamilton snatches them, quick eyes fluttering over the words on the pages and the annotations made by Congress of his mistakes. 

“I have my notes from these missives, I’ll show you them, you’ll see that what I wrote was true to my knowledge-” 

“Enough.” Washington’s voice is low and authoritative, he’s had enough of this conversation. It’s a dismissal and he can see by the look on Hamilton’s face he knows it. 

“Why won’t you listen to me?” There’s a hurt in his eyes which Washington recognizes from two months prior. “I’m telling the truth, I- I know the mistake wasn’t on my part.” 

“Congress already believes I favour you, if I try and refute these claims they will have my head. I’ve heard enough for now Alexander, we’ll speak more later.” 

“I don’t understand why you won’t allow me to at least-” 

“I said enough! You weren’t ready to return to work, that blame is on me, but you can try again in a few weeks after you recover a bit more, maybe by then you’ll have learnt to ask for help.” 

“I don’t need your help! I’m tired of your help!” Hamilton bellows it at the top of his lungs, his fragile hold on his temper broken. “You believe me a fragile, cracked piece of porcelain, nothing more than a damaged thing for you to fix, I’m not! I’m just as capable now as I was before Samuel Davies shoved a dagger through my chest or shattered my ribs! You don’t listen to me, even still!” 

“I’m just trying to protect you, Alexander!” 

“I never asked for that! All I ask for is your trust-” 

“Do not accuse me of distrust, son.” 

“Don’t call me that! You are not my father!” That certainly halts any rebuttal either of them were about to say. To be quite honest, it stops Washington’s heart in his chest. Hamilton gulps down a mouthful of air, eyes widened, and rushes out of the room. 

…

Washington doesn’t see Hamilton for hours after their argument, doesn’t see him for the rest of the day in fact. 

He heard Alexander race down the stairs, slam the door to his office and then reemerge a moment later, he heard Laurens’ worried call for his friend to stop, slow down, and then both their footfalls retreated down the hall, away from Washington. 

Washington cannot avoid camp inspections that afternoon, and by the time he returns it is nearly dark, and he is exhausted. The general starts first toward the workroom, expecting to find Hamilton at work despite their conversation and his order for the boy to stand down. He stops just outside. There is no candle lit, no one in the room. With that he turns back and heads up the stairs to his quarters.

Hamilton is not in the room. 

Washington is not surprised. Had he been in Hamilton’s place as a young man he supposes he would not have appreciated a talk like this either, but accountability is accountability. Hamilton will understand eventually. He’ll calm down by tomorrow, in a few weeks return to his work, and Washington can imagine the glares he’ll get when he has to scrutinize the boy’s letters and reports.

At some point the general falls asleep. He wakes before dawn as he usually does. When he sits up and lights a candle he looks to Hamilton’s bed. It’s untouched.

Washington is not surprised to find the bed empty. Over these last trying weeks, months, when Hamilton’s frustration or temper gets the better of him, he often leaves these quarters to share with Laurens. The two have become even closer since… then, and Washington knows that Laurens came as close to losing a brother as he did a son. The first time he woke to find Hamilton missing Washington all but panicked, tearing the place apart until he found the boy asleep in Laurens’ bed. Now he accepts it that Hamilton must still be in camp. He’s safe.

It’s fine.

Once he’s suitably dressed and prepared for the day Washington makes his way to the workroom. He’s the first one there. Not unexpected, since he’s ordered Hamilton to take more time to recover. A servant has already been by, there’s a fire going in the hearth. 

Washington sits at his desk with a brief glance at the stack of letters from Congress. He needs to respond to these soon. He can ill afford a rumor that he’s unable to maintain his office, his position, and manage this war. 

On the other side of the desk sit Hamilton’s letters brought from Congressman Brown. Underneath them lie scraps of parchment. Washington almost chuckles to himself. These must be the original notes Hamilton had copied his letters from. Mistakes on the letters correspond with circled words in the notes. The boy went through and found every one of his supposed mistakes and pointed…

Washington’s breath abruptly catches in his throat as he lifts one of the scraps. The writing is familiar- he’s seen it before. He still sees it in his sleep most every night.

Do you really think you can keep him safe every hour of every day?

Before he even consciously decides to move Washington is on his feet rushing for the stairs. He bursts into the other bedroom without even pausing to knock. 

Laurens is alone in his bed, still asleep. Washington can’t breathe.

Hamilton is fine, fine. He has to be. The boy wakes early. It’s fine.

Washington still rouses Laurens. Perhaps he knows where Hamilton’s gone so early. The boy blinks his eyes open, fixing on the general with groggy confusion. 

“Sir..?” Obviously he’s not fully awake, having failed to leap out of bed to salute.

“Have you seen Hamilton? He isn’t… I need to speak with him.”

Laurens shakes his head sleepily, and Washington feels his heart shatter in his chest. “Alex wasn’ here las’ night.”

It’s fine. Hamilton is fine.

Washington desperately wishes he could believe that.

[cctinsleybaxter]

2019 in books

The year’s contenders for the good, the bad, and the rest. I used to make a list of the ten best books I read all year, a tradition encouraged by my mom as far back as high school, but out 2019′s twenty-six mediocre offerings it didn’t really come together. Instead I’ve decided to break my ‘honorable mentions’ category into three subsections that I hope you’ll enjoy. In order of when read, not in order of affection:

Honorable mentions [books I liked; 3+ star material]

The Fifth Season by N.K Jemisin was given to me as a Christmas present last year, and I wasn’t sure how much I would like it since I don’t really do high fantasy. Rules need not apply; I loved the world building and narrative structure, and the characters were so much better than I’m used to even when their arcs seemed familiar at first glance. I guessed what was going on with the formatting maybe a little too quickly, but even then it was emotionally engaging and I was eager to keep reading and see what happened next. Haven’t devoured a book that way in years.

The Periodic Table by Primo Levi has been on my list for a while; as a memoir told through short stories it’s hit-or-miss, but so worth it. I especially loved getting to read his early attempts at fiction, and the chapter Phosphorus regarding his first real job as a chemist in 1942 (his description of his absolute disgust at having to work with rabbits, the feel of their fur and the “natural handle” of the ears is a personal favorite.) This excerpt is one I just think about a lot because it’s full of small sweet details and so kindly written:

“[my father] known to all the pork butchers because he checked with his logarithmic ruler the multiplication for the prosciutto purchase. Not that he purchased this last item with a carefree heart; superstitious rather than religious, he felt ill at ease breaking the kasherut rules, but he liked prosciutto so much that, faced by the temptation of a shop window, he yielded every time, sighing, cursing under his breath, and watching me out of the corner of his eye, as if he feared my judgement or hoped for my complicity.”

Slowing Down from Mouthful of Birds by Samanta Schweblin is a one-page short story, but I’m including it because it’s the best in the book and one of the better stories I’ve read in general. I won’t spoil it for you since it’s more poem than anything else (and you can read the whole thing here.)

A Short Film About Disappointment by Joshua Mattson deserves to be lower in the order because it’s like. Bad. But I couldn’t help but have a self-indulgent kind of love for it, since it’s a book about white boy ennui told through movie reviews. It definitely gets old by the end (one of those things where you can tell the author lost steam just as much as his leading man), but parts of it are so well-written and the concept clever. 80+ imaginary movie reviews and psychosomatic possession by your traitorous best friend. 

The Gone-Away World by Nick Harkaway has one of the greatest twists I’ve ever read in a novel, and no that’s not a spoiler, and yes I will recommend it entirely on that basis. It does its job as a multi-year sci-fi epic; reminds me a lot of Walter Moer’s early stuff in that it’s a bit Much(tm) but still a good mixture of politics and absurdity and absolute characters. Tobemory Trent was my favorite of the ensemble cast (but also boy do I wish men would learn how to write women.)

My Only Wife by Jac Jemk is a novella with only two characters, both unnamed, a man describing fragmented memories of his wife. It has me interested in Jemck’s other writing because even though I didn’t love it she writes beautifully; reading her work is like watching someone paint. The whole thing has a very indie movie feel to it (no scene of someone peeing but there SHOULD be), which I don’t think I’ve experienced in a story like this before and would like to try again. 

Mentions [books I really wanted to like but my GOD did something go wrong]

Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou is the most comprehensive history we have of Elizabeth Holmes and her con-company Theranos. It’s incredibly well-researched and absolutely fascinating, but veers into unnecessary pro-military stuff in one chapter (’can you believe she tricked the government?’ yes i can, good for her, leave me alone) and carries an air of racism directed at Holmes’ partner and the Pakistani people he brings onto the company. Carreyrou works for WSJ so I don’t know what I expected.

Circe by Madeline Miller was fun to read and goes down like a glass of iced tea on a hot day, but leaves a bit of an unpleasant aftertaste. It says a lot of things that seem very resonant and beautiful but ultimately ring hollow, and the ending is too safe. Predictable and inevitable. 

I was also bothered about Circe’s relationships with Odysseus and Telemachus as a focal point, not because they’re father and son (Greek mythology ethics : non-committal hand gesture) but because it’s the traditional “I used to like bold men but now I like... sensitive men.” Which as a character arc feels not unrealistic but very boring. You close the book and realize you’re not nine and reading your beat-up copy of Greek Myths, you’re an adult reading a New York Times Bestseller by a middle aged straight white woman.

Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor could have been the best thing I read all year and I’m miserable at how bad it ended up being. The concept is excellent; a thirteen-year-old girl goes missing in a rural English village, and every chapter chronicles a passing year. I knew it would be slow, I like slow, but nothing happens in this book and it ends up it feeling like Broadchurch without the detectives. Plus, McGregor, you know sometimes you can take a moral stance in your story and not just make everything a grey area? Especially with subplots that deal with things like pedophilia and institutional racism?

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor is about a twenty-something who moves from Iowa to San Francisco in the 90s and explores gender and sexuality through shapeshifting. It was something I really thought I would like and maybe even find helpful in my own life, but I couldn’t stand a single one of the characters or the narration so that’s on me! It does contain one of my favorite lines I’ve read in a long time though:

“And anyway, weren’t French boys supposed to be like Giovanni, waiting gaily for you in their rented room and actually Italian?”

Dishonorable mentions [there’s no saving these fellows]

The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchinson was supposed to be a fun easy-to-read thriller and what can I say except what the jklfkhlkj;fkfuck. It very quickly goes from ‘oh hey I read books like this when I was 15’ to ‘oh the girl who intentionally gets kidnapped by a wealthy serial killer is accidentally falling in love with his son and can’t stop talking about his eye color now huh.’ I felt like I was losing my mind; why did grown adults give this 5 stars on Goodreads.

The Beautiful Bureaucrat by Helen Phillips is supposedly surrealist horror fiction about working an office job in a new town, and reminded me of that rocky third or fourth year when I really started hating Welcome to Night Vale. All spark no substance, and even less fun because you know it’s going nowhere. I’ve also realized this past year that I cannot stand stories about women where their only personality trait is the desire to have children. People will throw the word ‘Kafkaesque’ at anything but here it was just insulting. 

The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai alternates point of view between Yale, a gay man living in Chicago in the late 80s and watching his friends die, and Fiona, the straight younger sister of one of those friends now looking for her erstwhile daughter in 2018. It was nominated for the 2018 Pulitzer, and part of my interest was in wondering how we were going to connect the plot lines of ‘the personal cost of the AIDS crisis’ with ‘daughter lost to a cult.’

The answer is that we don’t. The book is well-researched and acclaimed beyond belief, but it is SUCH a straight story. Yale’s arc is fueled by the drama of his boyfriend cheating on him and infecting them both, Fiona is painted as a witness to tragedy and encouraged to share their stories with her own daughter. “You’re like the Mother Theresa of Boys Town” one of the men complains bitterly of her, and the claim goes undisputed. It’s a story that makes a lot of statements about love and families and art that I feel we’ve all heard before to much greater effect.

[bibliophileiz]

An Ode to Spoilers: How ‘shock value’ flies in the face of conventional storytelling

My name is Iz and I love spoilers.

One of my favorite books I’ve ever read is an epic tragic love story that ends with the lovers dead. The first dies suddenly and horribly, and the other is left embittered, hopelessly navigating his now empty existence until he too dies in an unmomentous scene that feels almost more like a sigh of relief than the gut-wrenching destruction of a character I spent 353 pages with by that point. 

Here’s the thing though: I knew all that was coming when I started Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles, because I know how Homer’s The Iliad ends.

I’ve read a handful of retellings of the fall of Troy, and I never expect them to have happy endings. (I was pleasantly surprised when David and Stella Gemmell’s Troy trilogy ended with two of the characters living happily ever after.) Same goes with any stories that take place during destructive moments in history -- The Other Boleyn Girl will end with Mary watching her sister’s execution, The Titanic will always sink, and any book you read about the Holocaust may be about hope, but it will also be about trauma. 

So let’s take it out of the context of history and into fiction. One of the most famous tragic love stories of all time, Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, tells you in the prologue in Act I that Romeo and Juliet will die at the end -- presumably so that people who wanted a happy ending know to leave right then and come back when Much Ado About Nothing is playing. 

Shakespeare wasn’t the first or only storyteller to do this either. The audiences of Greek tragedies knew good and well Antigone was going to die for her loyalty to family and the gods. Even the muses in the opening of Homer’s The Odyssey kind of tell you what’s about to happen. Which suggests that in many of the most iconic and long-lasting stories in Western culture* the storytellers haven’t been too concerned with spoilers.

This is not what we’re seeing with storytellers today.  

Possibly because fans are now obsessed with getting online and talking out theories for what and how certain plots will play out, writers -- and TV writers in particular -- have become obsessed with “subverting audience expectations.” Some have even come out and said they’ve changed endings after fans correctly predicted their plans. Think about that for a second: audience surprise is now more important to some storytellers than having a plot-driven narrative.

There’s a scene in the CW show Jane the Virgin where, in a flashback, a precocious young Jane at her first ever book reading asks a romance author why she ended a particular book with the couple NOT living happily ever after. The author tells her love doesn’t always work out.

“Yeah, in real life,” Jane says. “But this is a romance novel. In a romance novel, they get a happily ever after, not happily until a mortar shell explodes just when Jean Luc’s finally coming home from the war!

“Everyone knows in tragedies they end up dead, in comedies they end up happy and in romance novels they end up together,” she later adds.

Of course the author tells Jane basically what head show writers David Benioff and D.B. Weiss told us about the end of Game of Thrones earlier this year: “Sometimes you need to subvert the ending for the element of surprise.”

The takeaway for Jane is that she has to read the endings of books first so that she knows what happens. This is something that comes up in other meta stories about storytelling. (In the 2003 movie Alex and Emma, Emma, played by Kate Hudson, tells professional novelist Alex, played by Luke Wilson, that she always reads the ends of books before deciding whether she wants to invest her time in the whole thing. Alex is flabbergasted. Also, I need to rewatch that movie.) 

Does this mean I think all TV shows, books, movies, etc. should be spoiled? No. But it does raise the point that audiences want to know they’re on the same page as the storyteller. I don’t want Rob Thomas to manipulate my emotions and make me think I’m watching a particular type of story only to blow Logan Echolls up in the last 10 minutes. I don’t want to read 10,000 pages and watch 7 seasons of a Jaime Lannister redemption arc that ends with him riding back to King’s Landing for a pointless death scene with the woman who sent him down the path of self-destruction in the first place. And I better fucking not have watched Kylo Ren oversee the massacre of a peaceful village at the beginning of The Force Awakens for The Rise of Skywalker to end with him banging Rey. Because those stories weren’t presented to me as the kind of stories that would have those endings.

If Game of Thrones the TV show had told us at the outset that this was the story of The Tragedy of Danaerys Targaryen, would as many people have been shocked, pissed off, bitterly disappointed in the ending to a show they’d spent literal years watching and being invested in? 

The other side of that question, of course, is: If Game of Thrones the TV show had told us at the outset that this was the story of The Tragedy of Danaerys Targaryen, would as many people have watched it in the first place, knowing it would inevitably end with Danaerys’ downfall?

Call me crazy, but I think yes. The show would still have been successful. Hell, I’d argue it would even have been better -- with everyone knowing the end, getting there is tighter. There are fewer false starts and unnecessary characters, the writers, actors and audience are all on the same page, that whole Dorne subplot probably doesn’t happen. With a general consensus on the destination, it all becomes about the journey.

And if we’re really being honest with ourselves, that’s what storytelling is actually about. Because I read 369 pages of The Song of Achilles, knowing damn well it wouldn’t end happily for Patroclus and Achilles but also getting to see how happy they were in the middle -- how their choices brought them to Troy to fight with the Greeks, even though they didn’t start the war themselves; how they spent 10 years making a life there together; how Achilles brought love to Patroclus’ life and how Patroclus kept Achilles human throughout the war. And instead of being a bitter love story, it was a beautiful one, and it was worth the ending.

Having an audience that understands the writer’s storytelling goals will always be better than leaving an audience shocked, angry, and confused at the wholesale destruction of characters they’ve invested in. Intentional storytelling will always be better than shock value.

*I say stories in Western culture because, unfortunately, I am not as familiar with stories in other cultures. (I know/have heard of some of them, but don’t know them well enough to know what the prologue says. Someone who knows -- does The Epic of Gilgamesh tell you at the outset that Enkidu dies?) But I’d be interested to know if some cultures care about spoilers more than others, and just generally would like to see more discussion on this whole topic.

[wegotjiminsjams]

Drama Llama 3

Chapter : 3

Jin X Reader

Word Count: 2829

Genre: Angst, fluff, humour (maybe?), enemies to lovers

You were so restless after seeing the mail that you couldn’t sleep the entire night. Usually you wouldn’t care much if you were late by 5 or 10 minutes but you made sure you left half an hour early so you had enough time to convince Mr. Lee to change your partner. When you reach his office you are surprised to see Jin who is already there. You are somewhat offended that he is here to discuss the same thing, he has been the one annoying you! How dare he have a problem with you!

 Before you could even ask Mr. Lee, he says,”I know what brings you here Ms.Y/n, I have already discussed this matter in detail with Jin, it is essential for both of you to learn to get along with everyone as not all situations are going to be favorable to you”, and he adds,” My class starts in 10 minutes Ms.Y/n , at least  you won’t be late today”.

As Mr. Lee is about to walk out of his office, you burst out, “Oh so what problem do you have with me? You are the one being rude and annoying, even if you were the last person I had to pair up with for an assignment I wouldn’t! Mr.Lee I want to do this assignment alone if I can not have another partner!”

Mr. Lee is about to say something but Jin cuts him off  “ Look at your arrogant self! Back at it again like everyone’s dying to be paired with you! I have no interest either! I am doing this assignment on my own and that is what I was discussing with him before you got here!”

“Enough is enough! I have been nice and tried to reason with the both of you, but if you haven’t understood let me make this clear one last time, you Ms. Y/n and you Mr. Seokjin, if you want to pass this class, will work together or face the consequences”.

 Mr.Lee bursts out clearly annoyed with the both of you, you had managed to get the calmest professor you had ever seen agitated.

 “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to take and you both have a class to attend if you remember”, to which you both apologize and head to class.

 You decide to meet in the cafe after class to discuss on how to make this work now because you weren’t given a choice.

Seeing you both enter with Mr.Lee, the whole class could guess what would have happened. You go take a seat next to Sooyoung and start complaining about how Jin wanted a change of partner when he is the one who has been annoying and rude. 

To which Sooyoung responds,” It would anyway work in your favour Y/n, why is it affecting you so much?” , which is very unlike Sooyoung because she usually listens without questioning much.

 This puts you in deep thought and you barely listen to the class.You look at Jin, who is already looking in your direction which makes you very embarrassed. You think about how your discussion would go in the cafeteria and if you both could even reach an agreement. You’re still lost in your thoughts when the bell rings.

 Crap! It’s time to interact with the devil himself. You take a deep breath and head straight to the cafeteria to get done with it. 

Once you enter the cafeteria you realise you are going to need major amounts of tolerance to deal with Seokjin’s annoying ass, so to avoid any forthcoming headaches you go to grab a cup of coffee first. Once you do you look around and find him already waiting at an empty table. He’s looking at his phone and hence doesn’t notice you and only looks up when you plop yourself opposite to him. 

“Aah! The princess is here” he says in a mocking tone “Shall we begin?” 

“Don’t call me that!” you retort

“Why? Would you prefer ‘Your Highness instead?” he says continuing to mock you.

It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already done with him. But you’re surely not going to let him have the last laugh. “Infact yes, I would much rather prefer that” you say “Besides let’s just get down to business I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to” you say before he can cut you off. 

“I don’t want to be stuck with you either okay” he continues “And yes let’s just begin with it. So do you have any suggestions on whose work we should study and elaborate on?” he asks

“I did have a few ideas” you say hesitatingly. Since you don’t know if you and Seokjin will be able to work together you think of playing it safe by choosing the most common choice, so that later on even if he doesn’t do his part you can manage on your own along with the abundance of information available online. If you choose someone who is not so popular you may not have enough resources to fall back on. 

“Well..go on..” he says

“How about Shakespeare?” you say. “His work has been studied extensively, we will have lots of information available on his style and method, it will be easier to analyse and bring out his essence.” 

 As soon as you say those words his face sours “You are so predictable! Really? Shakespeare? For God’s sakes Y/n we’re not in eighth grade” he says “Professor Lee would laugh at our juvenility” 

Extremely humiliated by his statement, makes you want to just punch his ridiculously handsome face. He always thinks so highly of himself, he thinks he is the only one with valid opinions and you just want to throw him off his high horse, but you realise what he said is kind of true, choosing Shakespeare is kind of juvenile and fighting with him is going to lead you nowhere, so you take a big sip from your coffee, fight the urge to tell him off and calmly ask him “Well if Shakespeare is so juvenile whom do you suggest we take?” 

For a moment he is utterly astonished that you did not yell back or say something insulting and instead spoke to him in a calm voice. He eyes you suspiciously for a few seconds before saying, “I think we could go with Sophocles, he is one of the prominent ancient Greek playwrights, his tragedies are in a way relevant even today and his masterful use of irony could be really useful when we perform our satire” he says thoughtfully

This time it’s your turn to scoff “And you say I’m predictable. Seokjin he is one of the most prominent playwrights, there is so much already done on him, what can we bring new to the table that hasn’t already been done?” you say “Won’t Professor Lee find this Juvenile too?” you say with slight smirk on your face. 

Seokjin seems to mull over your words and when he opens his mouth to speak he is surprisingly nice. Huh. So maybe he can be mature too sometimes. 

“Actually you know what Y/n you are right! We shouldn’t play it safe, we should take someone different, so that we can truly learn something from this experience” he smiles and it’s the first time he has directed a genuine smile towards you and you can’t say you aren’t surprised but also really glad that maybe he isn’t so bad after all. 

“Well how about Elizabeth Carey? She was the first English woman playwright and there isn’t much study on her compared to the other two, so this way we can add in more of our own analysis and interpretation.” you say “Plus it would be lovely to focus on how during that era a woman came to write a play” you add on. 

Seokjin has a thoughtful look on his face, “Hmm, this does mean more library work, but it also means it will be all the more rewarding!” he says excitedly “I think this is a good start” 

You can’t help but grin at him,“I can’t believe we agreed on something.” 

“Me neither” he chuckles, “You’re not as arrogant as you seem” he says and by the look on his face you can tell he says this with no malice at all. 

This makes you laugh, a genuine laugh and not a mocking one. “But you are exactly like you seem” you say 

“..And that is..?” 

“A big jerk” you say jokingly 

He knows you’re joking and that this time you don’t actually mean it but he still pouts and you can’t help but notice his plush pink lips. Were they always this pink and plump? Wait! Why are you suddenly thinking about his lips? 

You pull yourself out of your reverie and look at Seokjin, he’s still pouting at you. 

“I’m only joking” you say “But this doesn’t mean I hate you any less Seokjin” you give him a big smile. 

He gives you a smile that could easily rival your own “Same here Y/n, same here”   

“Let’s discuss what we find after class tomorrow y/n, seems like we’ll be able to do this assignment after all,” says Seokjin as he packs his stuff and gets ready to leave.

“Seems like Mr. Know it All is not so difficult to work with,” you say as you leave.

You go home surprisingly not upset about your day like you usually are. You are in a positive mood so this would help you focus on your research and you want to put in all the effort you can because Seokjin is the kind of person who is very thorough with his work and you don’t want to seem arrogant or lazy by doing the bare minimum so you decide to dive right into your assignment when your phone starts beeping continuously.

“Y/n, How did it go with Seokjin today?”

“Did you both get into an argument again?”

“Do you think you would be able to work together?”

“Is he really a jerk?” 

You decide to reply to her before she explodes your phone with hundred more texts.

 “Woah Sooyong, Calm down! It was not as bad as I thought it would be. We decided to put aside our differences and work together. He doesn’t really seem that big of a jerk”.

“Lol Y/n, I knew you would warm up to him! No one can resist that charming face of his!”

“No Sooyoung, you have got it all wrong, We are just trying to be civil,” you wonder what is up with her because she usually goes along with what you say. She has never called Seokjin charming or handsome before.

“Y/n, are you so oblivious to everything? The whole class keeps talking about the sizzling sexual tension between you both  and how wonderful a couple you two would make, the extremely good looking, sassy couple”, to which she adds, “Many of them think you both are already dating.” 

You wonder what is up with Sooyoung! Where the hell is all this coming from?!

“Ugh Sooyoung, he is still very arrogant! I don’t care what others think! We both aren’t dating and he is the last guy I would date!” you are very annoyed and you thought you wouldn’t get riled up at the mention of his name anymore, you were very wrong. How could there be such a huge misunderstanding!

“Sooyoung, let’s not talk about Seokjin like this anymore!” you decide to keep this topic off bay and focus on your assignment for now. 

 And before she can reply you send in another text, “We’ll meet tomorrow, I have got work to do, bye” you say ending the conversation.

 The conversation you had with Sooyoung makes you realize that you have to do everything you can to make yourself disappear from everyone’s watch so you go to class on time and take a seat at the very back. Seokjin enters class just a few seconds before Mr, Lee could and takes a seat right next to you and you can already hear everyone whisper to each other.

“Hi Ms. Y/L/N, so let’s discuss what we found, I found…” 

Before he spits out another word you cut him off rudely, “Sshhh Seokjin!” you say looking around the class and seeing everyone’s eyes on the both of you,“Not now, Mr. Lee is about to start! For a Know It All it may not be important to listen to his lecture, but for me it is”. 

Seokjin notices you looking at the people around you , he is completely taken back because he thought you both were doing fine, now you seem too embarrassed to even speak to him in front of anyone. He would normally argue with you but this time he decides not to make a scene because he knows Mr. Lee will not take any of it and will probably fail you both if he sees you arguing. And then Seokjin will have to answer to his father, which he knows for sure will not go well. 

Seokjin just storms out after class is over. You run calling after him,”Seokjin, Seokjin...”

“We had to meet in the cafeteria to discuss our assignment…” your voice trails off as Seokjin keeps taking faster strides. 

You finally catch up to him and lash out again, “Really??? What is it this time? What annoyed you? Just the way I look?”

“Oh so your arrogant self won’t even consider that they did something wrong?! You were the one  who ignored me when I was just trying to discuss our assignment! Now you are acting as if  I have a problem? So discussing an assignment also hurts your pride now Y/n? Or just speaking to me in front of others does? Maybe I should take notes on how to approach the Lil Ms. Arrogant Princess because she rather give importance to her pride than to the work at hand?!” Seokjin spits everything out in one breath like he rapped a verse.

“I am trying my best to work with you, you are only making it more difficult for the both of us”.

“Sorry Seokjin for the way I reacted in the morning but for a second stop being so judgemental. Mr. Lee already has an eye on us and talking when he’s about to start his lecture isn’t gonna help us. That’s why I cut you off”. 

It’s best to keep what’s actually on your mind to yourself, Seokjin will probably think it is stupid and dismiss the matter.

“Now shall we get to work, Mr. Seokjin?,” you say as calmly as you can because you don’t want to raise his temper.

As you both are discussing your findings over coffee, you see Hoseok walk towards your table, “Hey guys, I saw you two arguing earlier, were y’all having a lovers’ spat?” he asks cheekily. 

 Seokjin’s ears turn red out of embarrassment and he looks at you, you have an unreadable expression on your face.

“N-nooo, hobi...w-we were just discussing our assignment, actually, we are done! Y/n l-let’s continue tom-tomorrow, shall we?”

He barely manages to speak which is very unlike the confident Seokjin you have always known. He sprints out of the room with Hobi and you are left with a dumbfounded expression on your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are no longer left wondering if what Sooyoung said was true! It was actually the only thing everyone has been talking about ever since your first encounter with Jin. So much for not wanting to be noticed anymore! 

Moreover it leaves you thinking why did Jung Hosoek from your class, who also happens to be Jin’s only friend question what were y’all doing?! What exactly has this self centred jerk told his friend about you?! 

The more you think you both are making progress the more problems appear! All you can think of is the doom that awaits you tomorrow. How are you ever going to get yourself out of this mess!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yahhhh! Hosoek-ahhh what were you thinking? Oh wait, you weren’t!! What was the need to do that in front of y/n?” Seokjin bursts out angrily.

 “Jin you know I was just joking!” Hoseok lets out a laugh.

“You know this is not funny! What will Y/n think?”

“There she is again! Occupying your thoughts!” Hoseok can’t help but laugh at your miserable situation.

“That’s it! No more of this nonsense! She is just my partner assigned by Mr. Lee. We are working together! That’s all there is to know!”

“Well I guess you are just saying this to yourself ”.

“Hosoek-ahhhhhh! Enough!!” Jin was not having any of it! “Now we have to figure out how are you going to explain to Y/n what you just did!”

[booksfornamjoon]

The literary sources of BTS’ “Singularity” (Part II)

Chapter II: Oedipus Rex, the blind who had eyes

* This is a personal and purely philological analysis, that is, centred on the study of literature and/or the language as used in literature.

* This post was originally written in Spanish and translated into English, sorry if there are any errors.

* You can check part I --Narcissus and the problem of self-identity--, here.

* Also, you can check my in-depth analysis of Singularity lyrics here.

As we established in the first part of the analysis, one of the main literary sources of "Singularity" is the classic myth of Narcissus, established in Western culture through the Metamorphosis by Ovid. Remember that Narcissus, the son of a nymph and a god, ends up so enamoured with his reflection that he ends up falling into the water where his beautiful face appears, dying because of his own vanity. We affirmed that in one of the versions of the myth, the mother of Narcissus, the nymph Liriope, decides to visit Tiresias (in ancient Greek, Τειρεσίας), one of the most famous soothsayers of Greek mythology. This character, present as a prophet in all Greek tragedies related to the founding of the city of Thebes --one of the most important social nuclei of ancient Greece-- is not only considered the mediator between gods and humans but between men and women --by its androgynous nature. and between life and death.

[Tiresias appears in front of Odysseus during the sacrifice, Heinrich Füssli (1780-85)]

One of the main tragedies, and the one that will centre this second part, is Oedipus Rex (Oι̉δίπoυς τύραννoς), a Greek tragedy written by Sophocles in an unknown date (it is believed that it was composed around 430 BC). Broadly speaking, the work begins during the mandate of Oedipus, king of Thebes and husband of Jocasta. His glorious reign is dying by an aggressive epidemic of plague and he orders his brother-in-law Creon to depart for the Oracle of Delphi (a sacred temple dedicated to Apollo, built in the Villa of Delphi, Greece). 

The prediction is clear: the plague is a divine punishment because the death of Laius, the previous king, has not been avenged and it will not disappear until the guilty party is killed or sent into exile. After this, Oedipus collaborates arduously to discover the culprit -- to who promises to save his life and only punish him/her with exile--, relying on his citizens and the close members of his family. It is precisely Creon who introduces the character of Tiresias since he advises the monarch to come to him to solve the problem.

OEDIPUS: Teiresias, you who understand all things—what can be taught and what cannot be spoken of, what goes on in heaven and here on the earth—you know, although you cannot see, how sick our state is. And so we find in you alone, great seer,  our shield and saviour. 

We must bear in mind that Tiresias, who appears in this work as a character already known from other mythological cycles --Greek tragedies were represented in the amphitheatres and used to use dynasties of characters that all the public knew-- is a blind fortune-teller. When he arrives in Thebes, he refuses to declare what he knows, even though he was present at the time of Laius' murder, and he and Oedipus confront each other in a heated conversation. Irritated, Tiresias declares that Oedipus is the murderer that Oedipus himself is searching for and insinuates him that he lives in incest with his mother, with whom he has had children, he is not the Theban as he believes and that, shortly, he will be blind like him. Faced with such accusations, Oedipus does not believe him and thinks that the fortune-teller has conspired with Creon to snatch his throne.

TEIRESIAS: I say that with your dearest family, unknown to you, you are living in disgrace.  You have no idea how bad things are.

OEDIPUS: Do you really think you can just speak out, say things like this, and still remain unpunished?

TEIRESIAS: Yes, I can, if the truth has any strength.

OEDIPUS: It does, but not for you. Truth is not in you— for your ears, your mind, your eyes are blind!

TEIRESIAS: You are a wretched fool to use harsh words which all men soon enough will use to curse you.

TEIRESIAS: You may be king, but I have the right to answer you—and I control that right, for I am not your slave. I serve Apollo, and thus will never stand with Creon, signed up as his man. So I say this to you, since you have chosen to insult my blindness— you have your eyesight, and you do not see.

Since the tragedy is extensive, I will try to explain the argument briefly. Finally, Oedipus, who was actually the heir of the kings of Corinth, left his city because of an oracle that proclaimed that he would kill his father and marry his mother. He wanted to avoid the tragedy of his destiny and fled. During the way, he's entangled in a brawl in which he assassinates several people ..., one of them turns out to be Laius. With the intervention of several witnesses, it is known that Oedipus was not the biological son of the kings of Corinth since he had been abandoned on a mountain shortly after being born and saved by a messenger from the kingdom of Corinth. Little by little, Jocasta, his wife, realizes the truth: Oedipus is the son that she and Laius abandoned to their fate so that a fateful oracle would not be fulfilled, unaware that the messenger had managed to save him. Oedipus, oblivious to his true identity, had become a brave citizen of Thebes and, after overcoming the enigma of the Sphinx, took the throne. Married to his mother and having killed his real father, Oedipus stabs his eyes, not wanting to see the tragedy of his existence, and asks for an exile with his two daughters, which marks the end of the story.

OEDIPUS: But the hand which stabbed out my eyes was mine alone. In my wretched life, why should I have eyes  when nothing I could see would bring me joy?

[Oedipus Rex, film adaptation by Pier Paolo Passolini (1967)]

In summary, we can see that Tiresias is the only one, by being ironically blind, who can see the truth in a world full of people who have eyes but cannot see. He's the famous prophet whose true revelation is not accepted when he twice proclaims it. The originality of Sophocles lies in this irony (especially taking into account that Tiresias appears at the beginning of the tragedy), in the belief that the knowledge of the human being is not a simple objective fact that is imposed on us, but a subjective possession before the one we can react belligerently, as a possession that partly needs to be possessed by the one who receives it to become effective. That is why Oedipus rebels against the truth, because he believes more in him than in the gods.

A fatal love, the intervention of a vengeful divinity or the problematization of sight are common themes between the myth of Narcissus, Oedipus Rex and Singularity. If we stop a bit in the lyrics, we can extract some examples:

A sound of something breaking I awake from sleep

We have the fracture, the rupture of the individual once he realizes he's wearing a mask, he's blind.

I dumped myself into the lake I buried my voice for you Over the winter lake I was thrown

The lake, an obvious reference to Narcissus and his death. On the other hand, the second verse talks about a certain culprit (that’s why he says 'for you’ or uses passive verbs that exempt him from responsibility: 'I was thrown’), like if he was even talking to a god, maybe to a woman (that's the simplest interpretation). However, he's talking to himself. He's the culprit of his blindness like Oedipus is.

In addition, another interesting aspect is the last speech of the tragedy. This is said by the chorus, a collective character who comments and judges what happens in the tragedy and represents the Theban citizen, the public. I could not help thinking about the dancers of the video.

CHORUS: You residents of Thebes, our native land,  look on this man, this Oedipus, the one  who understood that celebrated riddle.  He was the most powerful of men.  All citizens who witnessed this man’s wealth  were envious. Now what a surging tide  of terrible disaster sweeps around him.  So while we wait to see that final day,   we cannot call a mortal being happy   before he’s passed beyond life free from pain.

Also, BTS tends to distort the figure of the idol, that is, the famous singer who is seen as a deity and not as a human being. Oedipus, like Taehyung, is seen by the public as a king, as a divine emissary, but eventually ends up being as mundane as the spectators. He suffers, he has doubts and, sometimes, he doesn't love himself either.

Lastly (I KNOW THAT I AM WRITING A LOT), among the main themes of this fabulous work of universal literature, we must talk about the problem of the search for truth and the risks and harms involved in achieving knowledge. Nietzsche speaks of this drama in the 9th chapter of the Birth of Tragedy (1871-1872). The main thesis of this book states that art is based on two fundamental notions that the Greeks of the archaic era and the classical era, ie, the Greeks prior to Socrates, knew: the two fundamental impulses of nature that are symbolized by two Greek gods, Dionysus and Apollo. 

Apollo and Dionysus symbolize two physiological states of the human being: sleepiness and drunkenness; as well as two vital impulses: the individuation (JUNG'S INDIVIDUATION PROCESS!!!!!) and the overflow. Broadly speaking, Nietzsche makes use of the deities to highlight the human condition in its strictest sense and, in turn, unveil the struggle or opposition of forces that hide in the bosom of nature. Apollo symbolizes the veil (the beautiful forms/artistic creations that adorn life and justify it) and Dionysus symbolizes suffering, death, truth..., the tragic wisdom, that is, the terrible awareness of the finitude of Men and his suffering existence. Nietzsche states that the hypertrophy of some of the elements could be harmful to man, an excess of veil could lead to optimism and rationalism, and an excess of truth could lead to suicide or asceticism. Both elements are necessary so that life can be kept in balance.

To end, Nietzsche presents Oedipus as a transgressor, a hero condemned to fall for having tried to go too far. By transgressing nature and social norms, and wanting to find out what is forbidden, Oedipus discovers a world whose vision is forbidden to the rest of mortals. He commits a masculine, heroic version of original sin by choosing to eat from the tree of knowledge that condemns humanity to abandon innocence. In this case, it is his curiosity and his integrity that encourages him to investigate. That abandonment of innocence, of comfortable ignorance, is the cruel and heroic destiny of Oedipus, and his deed consists in his sacrifice (LIKE IT HAPPENS IN 'DEMIAN'!!!). Searching in ourselves, inquiring into our motives and wounds, has a price, it leads to a rupture of the individual necessary for the rebirth of the being.

Thus the man who is responsive to artistic stimuli reacts to the reality of dreams as does the philosopher to the reality of existence; he observes closely, and he enjoys his observation: for it is out of these images that he interprets life, out of these processes that he trains himself for life. It is not only pleasant and agreeable images that he experiences with such universal understanding: the serious, the gloomy, the sad and the profound, the sudden restraints, the mockeries of chance, fearful expectations, in short the whole 'divine comedy' of life, the Inferno included, passes before him, not only as a shadow-play — for he too lives and suffers through these scenes — and yet also not without that fleeting sense of illusion; and perhaps many, like myself, can remember calling out to themselves in encouragement, amid the perils and terrors of the dream, and with success: 'It is a dream! I want to dream on!' Just as I have often been told of people who have been able to continue one and the same dream over three and more successive nights: facts which clearly show that our innermost being, our common foundation, experiences dreams with profound pleasure and joyful necessity (Nietzsche, The Birth of the Tragedy).

I hope you liked this and found it interesting and easy to read. I’m working in the next chapters, which will talk, among many things, about these works/characters/topics:

Frankenstein (Mary Shelley, 1818): A man can create his own monster

Wuthering Heights (Emily Brönte, 1847): Narcissus and Heathcliff

Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brönte, 1847): Understanding the Double - Jane Eyre and Bertha Mason

Alice Through the Looking-Glass (Lewis Carroll, 1871): The mirror symbolism

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Robert Louis Stevenson, 1886): Evil in a reflected identity

The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde, 1890): Self-image and ego

Dracula (Bram Stocker, 1897): Innate evil without a reflection

Peter Pan (James Matthew Barrie, 1904): Seeking for a reflection in the absence of shadows

Ophelia (from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare, 1603): Madness, water and suicide

From the myth to contemporaneity: how to codify identity and body in the information age

[flowersaretheshit]

The artist and Tom, part two.

It’d been a week since the series of paintings, sketches and photographs. Tom looking back on this found a warm delight in himself that he was sat in her apartment. On her balcony. He turned around to see her organising her works, there was a refreshing sense to being here. “Are you alright?” He caught her staring at the works, fingers to her lips brows furrowed. “It’s missing something.” she let her arms drop, then, Indecisive she placed her hand to her forehead. “Damn it Tom, I’ve got twelve pieces here and I still think somethings missing.” standing up he came to look at the works himself. “How do you want them presented?” He queried placing his own hand to his jaw in thought. 

Gliding about she laid out her works, dressing gown billowing around her.

He watched her move. She was swift and strong in her movements, goddess like. He’d said to her she had a commanding presence once while being sketched, to which she’d told him ‘well, listen to me and stop moving.’ He’d very quickly obliged. Her pieces were laid out, they were truly magnificent portraits. All the subjects were male, yet she’d given them all a feminine sense of beauty. Tom gazed at them, trying not to get lost in their elegance. ”They really, are magnificent Y/n... “ He glanced at her, she was biting her thumb. “That doesn’t mean they’re ready. I’d paint another one but I don’t have a model. Or the time.” Tom looked at her, “I’ll model for you.” he stated simply. She looked at him and smiled. “That would be wonderful but...I cant paint another piece, they get presented in a week. I don’t have time.” he was about to say something but she caught him “A photograph?” He smiled but shrugged. “maybe.”

Y/N opened up all the curtains, light shining through the windows. “I’ll put it as the final piece.” She called marching over to him, sketches in hand. “You can be my, Apollo.” She smiled as they flipped through the sketches, each one had a mixture of whites and golds. An elegant frame almost seductive, hands draped elegantly around a statue. “Apollo was a romantic, adoring. He became infatuated easily. I’d thought it’d be too much.” He hummed going over the sketches again while she began carrying a statue of a young Greek man to the balcony. He studied her, light spattering over her skin while she tried out a couple of photos. “There’s a poetic tragedy to his tendency.” He said gazing at her she smiled still organising the statue with white silk “Is there.” she smirked. “I think you already know, by the way you’ve positioned the statue. He’s turned away. The sun provides warmth, life and allows us to see everything about our world, including ourselves.” He stopped, she was gazing at him. “Continue.” She smiled taking a long train of gold fabric and laying it out on the sofa. He coughed continuing as she made her way over. 

“But, no one can look directly at the sun for long enough. He’s beautiful but he wants to be in love.” She hummed in agreement, walking over to him. delicate hands reaching to his top button. Tom stopped as she continued to unbutton his shirt, taken aback he simply gazed at her as she slid his shirt off his shoulders. He leaned into her touch, almost helpless. “And have someone love him in return.” She finished for him taking his shirt and replacing it with the gold fabric. He lost himself then, completely entranced and surrendered to her. “Please finish, I love the way you explain my genius ideas.” she looked over her shoulder. grabbing some gold paint. “When he does find a recipient of his love, he looses him.” she stopped, using her thumb to drag lines of gold paint across his jaw. Collar bone and nose. Down his cheek bones placing a light swipe across his his bottom lip.

“You’re talking about Hyacinthus.” she hummed waiting for his reply, eyes boring into his. “I am.” he smiled looking down at her. She smoothed out the fabric. “You know, many male models I’ve known and critics have been so obsessed with this idea of masculinity. All brooding faces and jagged lines, I always found it so typical to fall into. It’s sad, many of my teachers... they never understood what I was trying to say.” She seemed lost for a moment, lost in her work. In him. They, for a brief second lost in each other. “And, what is it your saying.” He asked happy with being lost in her. “It’s more of a question, what makes a man? Why do we limit men to dominance and women to submission, why can’t men be feminine and still be seen as desirable? Why do we associate femininity with weakness?” She truly was a strange and wonderful being. “Well, Apollo. Pose for me.” They smiled at each other, as she guided him to the balcony.

The following four hours were a mixture of poses, philosophical discussion and photos, all until the sun began to sink. “Thomas, you are wonderful. I think I’ve got it.” He sat next to her looking at the photos. “You’re the artist, y/n. This is all your making.” he handed her the sketches. She smiled, looking at her work. “This is what I wanted, you know. I always dreamed of putting my work on display. having people see the meaning in my work.” He looked at her then, her voice was cracking but she was still smiling. “I’ve worked so fucking hard.” She laughed eyes teary. He chuckled and pulled her in to his chest. “So many people told me I wouldn’t get anywhere with my work, that I had to aim for something more realistic. More popular.” she pushed back wiping her eyes. “Oh god Thomas, I-I just.” She sighed shoulders slumping, smile wide, her jaw tilted back. He felt like he had to take everything in. “I’ve wanted this for a while.” she laughed.

“And you’ve got it.” He pushed some of the hair behind her ear and gently picked up his shirt. “I’ll see you soon, if you need a hand with any of the moving stuff down or whatever I’ll be glad to help.” Moving to the door she stood up arms folded over her chest. “You’re too good to me, but thank you.” he chuckled looking back at her. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she was holding it down. Just as he turned back to the door she called out to him “Thomas..” he looked back at her, it was the first time he’d seen her look almost nervous. “You... you’re coming to the exhibition, right?” he smiled. “Of course.” She smiled into her knuckles. “good, we... we should celebrate after.” he felt a warm sensation in his stomach at her words. “Definitely.” he began to walk down the steps only to go back up to where she was now stood above him at the door way. “You, you should come back to my apartment. for dinner?” she nodded leaning on the door frame. “I’d love to.”

The Exhibition was the only thing distracting y/n from Thomas. Though he had a funny way of popping into her head, and he was unavoidable with the photo needing to be printed as soon as possible. It didn’t help that on top of all that she was having an argument with the organisers about her artist statement. She was at the gallery with organisers, six middle aged men. The first thing she noticed about them was their stature, they had the kind of lift in their chins that made them appear as though they were constantly trying to place themselves above you. like they were walking around on the tips of their toes. “You must be Mr, Williams, Anderson, Notts, Kennick, Earls, Richards and Smith.” she went to shake their hands but none of them obliged. “I’m afraid, this is a formal meeting miss L/N.” she bit her tong, they’re paying you. she kept telling herself.

 “I’m sorry, what’s this about my statement.” she asked as one of the gentlemen stepped forward handing her the paper. “We have no need of it. Your work is merely a temporary exhibition. We doubt any possibility of it being popular, so we don’t wish to draw attention to the work.” she let her jaw drop. “You’re holding a gala for it, surely my statement is essential to future clients.” she kept calm but she could feel the anger in her. Mr Williams stuck his nose at her, “Yes, but being as it’s not lasting all we need is the title. The meaning of your work hardly matters.” “You organise an art gallery. Meaning has never not mattered before.” she was shouting now. “This isn’t negotiable.” Before she could retaliate they’d stormed back into the gallery. furious y/n stormed away herself paper in hand.

Tom had his door open again, but was shocked when he saw y/n stood in the door. He went to smile only to see her face red and tear stained. “God are you alright.” He walked over and gently lead her inside, sitting down she explained everything to him. Tom just sat there for a moment stunned. “a-and I can’t even demand it, they’ll cancel my exhibition.” He leaned forward, as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I wish I could help you, that’s outrageous. They can’t make predictions like that, it doesn’t make sense. You’re one of the up comers, it’s stupid of them not to address you.” She calmed her self down, looking at her he kept tying to think of ways he could help. “I don’t care, if my work flops. No artist gets amazing reviews for every exhibition, but it’s the way they spoke to me. They aren’t even attending on the evening.”

Tom paused deep in thought, an idea suddenly springing to mind. “Present it verbally. They wont be there, it should be fine.” She paused for a minute looking at him, “You’re wonderful.” She smiled letting out a laugh. She paused for a moment lingering before standing up. “I should get going back.” she stood walking to the door. “You really are too good to me Tom.” she sighed a hand lingering on the door frame. “I only want them to see you y/n.” She looked back at him, he was looking her straight in the eyes. “You work so damn hard, you deserve the full opportunity.” He sat there his eyes so determined, they really did care about each other. She took a step forward, thinking. What if I ran into his arms right now. What if I just ended it all. 

instead she simply said “I know.” and they both smiled as she closed the door. 

“Good night Thomas.”  

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Okay! That’s part two! Firstly I’m just gonna say I’m really sorry I’m dragging this out but I love writing it so much, and that down to this sudden stream of love and support. So part three will be coming shortly! Also after I’ve finished this please let me know who else you’d like me to write about, feel free to drop in suggestions for other actors and characters and I will do my best to write them! I was thinking about writing something Armie Hammer themed next, so let me know if that peaks your interest.

with love, Nina.

@drakesfiance

@nwmtagsb @hajjummah @angelofasgard16 @caticorndancingonpainbows @haru-ririchiyo @sweet-hot-latte @ouranyaoi 

[him-e]

do you have any general predictions for Star Wars episode 9?

I’m not too confident in my predictions for IX, because TLJ was one giant curveball thrown at us. Not because we didn’t correctly predict most of it (we did) but because the ending wiped a lot of possible paths out of the way, with no actual cliffhanger to pin speculation on, Snoke dead, and the main storyline from Return of the Jedi already covered without bearing the expected fruit (=Kylo’s redemption). So as far as sw tropes and patterns go, IX is almost uncharted territory. Still, Star Wars is a fairytale, and imo the best way to predict where it’s going is to focus on larger themes and archetypal narratives. The central theme for IX was spelled out in in TLJ very clearly: we are going to win this war not by killing what we hate, but by saving what we love. I’m fairly confident that this theme will be developed through both Rey and Kylo, individually and together.(*)

Kylo Ren’s arc is also the main axis of this trilogy so in order to know where the story is going you have to figure out where he is going. And right now, Kylo Ren moved beyond Vader. Breaking the leash and killing his master did not redeem him, but actually cemented him as the Villain. In TLJ, he went from lost boy to actual god of the underworld. There’s no big bad outranking him. He’s the sole architect of his own misery. You can’t save him by eliminating another player—that ship has sailed with TLJ. At the same time, I have no doubt he’ll redeem himself. So how will he do it? In Beauty and the Beast—which I think is one of the patterns this trilogy was modeled on—the real villain is neither the witch nor Gaston, and it’s certainly not the Beast himself; if there’s a villain at all, it’s the Beast’s darker, uglier nature, whatever is crippling his ability for love and gentleness and self sacrifice, that has to be defeated. Like the Beast, Kylo is responsible for creating the dark castle that has become his prison; the only way to be free is to learn to let go—let go of his anger, let go of his ambition and desire to dominate, let go of his possessiveness towards Rey; let the Beast die in order to break the spell. The Beast is the Kylo Ren persona and everything that persona is connected to and helped create (the First Order, Hux). So I think one of the climaxes of the movie, if not The climax, will be the ~death~of Kylo Ren (and, I hope, the rebirth of Ben Solo).

With that in mind, here are my predictions (bold for the ones I’m relatively certain of, italics for half-predictions-half-wishful-thinking):

there will be a time jump (anything from 6 months to 3 years);  

the Resistance will have partially regrouped and be possibly doing some recruiting work across the galaxy;

we’ll see more new planets and maybe some familiar ones (Tatooine, Coruscant, Naboo? Perhaps we’ll even go back to Jakku)

Poe will be in charge, but there will be tension between him and Rey, maybe between him and Finn too—like, disagreements about military strategies and about Rey’s role in the war. Poe seems to have internalized Holdo’s message on his own terms: where Holdo’s “spark” line was about creation, Poe’s still thinking in terms of destruction. So I think he’ll actually butt heads with Rey, and Finn might be caught in the crossfire. Finn might agree with Poe at first, but eventually his loyalty to Rey will prevail.

(the tension will be eventually reconciled during the third act of the film)

a lightsaber fight between Rey and Kylo (we haven’t had one since TFA so it’s long overdue), to establish their current status as conflicted enemies who think their respective paths are sealed and it can’t be any other way. Maybe this happens when their respective armies are watching so they literally can’t avoid the duel. But the audience already knows they won’t truly hurt each other, so it will be more of a way to have them vent their feelings of hurt and yell a bit and like, “I offered you the galaxy and you betrayed me! “No, you betrayed me!!”, you know.

Reylo angst

more specifically, force bond angst (it would be a complete waste of juicy narrative potential to drop the force bond storyline, although I suspect that JJ will put his personal spin on it, either visually or conceptually). Whether Rey and Kylo went through a time of not having force connections at all (and possibly believing the bond is dead for good) or ignoring them whenever they happened, in IX the radio silence will be broken, and it will be angsty at first.

the bond will be discovered, causing Rey and Kylo to fall from grace among their own ranks. Their loyalty will be questioned, their connection to the enemy feared and regarded with suspicion. People will try to take advantage of it.

Poe/the Resistance will try to corner Rey into using the bond as a trap for Kylo, which will make her furious (paralleling BatB, where the villagers use Belle’s magic mirror to find the Beast and slaughter him);

JJ might partially reframe Rey’s parentage by adding more information and details about why she was sold out by her parents (rey*sky though is dead and will stay dead)

Leia’s death will be a plot point, one way or another. It’s possible we learn about her death in the opening crawl, and the film opens with the aftermath of her death and/or her funeral;

Leia’s death will have a major impact on Kylo’s arc and his redemption

Kylo attending to Leia’s funeral via force bond?

We will see Kylo’s loneliness. It will have shakespearian/greek tragedy vibes. 

He will be plagued by visions à la Hamlet and visited by Force ghosts. Luke, at least. Possibly Snoke (though I assume his wouldn’t be a proper Force ghost but either his toxic aura lingering or a figment of Kylo’s imagination, reliving his abuse over and over again). Less likely, Anakin.

Force ghost!Luke will appear to Rey too. (I feel like Rian didn’t give their relationship proper closure, probably on purpose, so that JJ could do something with it)

Kylo will also have to deal with the emptiness of vengeance. His whole family is dead, like he wanted, and yet he’s still suffering and not feeling whole. 

He��ll also see there’s no point in having power if he has no one to share it with.

the first order might produce a new superweapon, the usage of which will cause extra strife between Hux and Kylo;

speaking of weapons, something will be made with the legacy saber. Either that or Rey finally builds her own saber.

Some new aspect of the Force will be revealed, and/or there will be at least one climatic scene involving a massive use of the Force (in battle or else)

FIRSTORDERBOWL! 

Hux will 100% try to overthrow Kylo and become the anti-antivillain, the “mummer’s dragon” to quote asoiaf, because yes, the real enemy might be inside Kylo’s heart but we still need space battles, lightsaber duels and climatic action sequences. Hux hates Kylo, considers him unworthy, craves the title of Supreme Leader for himself, has personally witnessed how volatile and self destructive Kylo is when it comes to his personal emotions, and now knows his weaknesses (it’s unclear if he knew that Kylo Ren = Ben Solo before, but after seeing Kylo going on a rampage against Luke there’s no way he hasn’t connected the dots). The look Hux gives Kylo when Kylo enters the Resistance base on Crait is that of a man who is already plotting a coup. The novelization also says that Hux has access to secret camera recordings, which probably means he has or is soon to discover footage of Kylo killing Snoke to save Rey and the two of them fighting the praetorian guards. So all the elements are in place for Hux to launch a full blown coup… which Kylo won’t see coming because he thinks Hux is a worthless rat and he’s too busy wallowing in his own misery anyway.

The Knights of Ren should come into the picture. Either they’ll side with Kylo or, surprising, with Hux, which would raise the stakes exponentially as Hux would then have both military power and the support of a team of minor dark side users;

Finn will also have a part to play in firstorderbowl. Even though both TLJ and TFA were lacking on this aspect, I still expect to see his connection to the stormtroopers finally coming to fruition. He might incite a revolt, and even if not all the stormtroopers follow him, this would still significantly cripple Hux’s military power;

Kylo might be imprisoned or forced to flee; this new and definitive betrayal will finally make him see that the First Order is not, has never been the Right Way;

or Hux might try to kill two birds with one stone and turn Kylo over to the Resistance, while also revealing that Rey went to the Supremacy to ally herself with Kylo, so that the rebels lose their trust in her. 

Maybe both Kylo and Rey end up as prisoners of the Resistance, or Rey finds herself in such a predicament that she has no choice but flee with Kylo 

I honestly don’t expect Kylo to, like, actually SIDE with the Resistance—I think the movie will use him as a wild card until the end. But one thing will be clear and it’s that he cares for Rey—at the very least, he’s invested in her safety. 

Narratively, it makes sense that this time around it’s either Kylo who goes to Rey or they meet halfway.

We might see some trippy force bond-related other-dimension sequence.

Vision-related stuff, too. Maybe we’ll finally see what THAT part of the TFA forceback was about (the one with Kylo stabbing the “clan member”), or Rey’s vision of the future will come to fruition (assuming that both didn’t already happen with the throne room scene).

there will be a kiss. 

(more than one, actually. Finn’s totally going to kiss Rose and this time it will be a proper kiss.)

but yes. there will be a reylo kiss.

Kylo’s last stand will involve some sort of self sacrifice. I think even in the end he won’t be able to see a future for himself among the /good guys/, so he’d rather go out in a blaze of glory, saving what he loves.

Rey will save him (or try to).

Kylo Ren will symbolically (or even literally) die 

and be revived through massive force-healing by Rey. And it’s going to be a proper disney-style Beauty and the Beast scene.

Pietà/rebirth imagery. Probably heavy-handed.

(*) You could say that Rey already tried to do the “winning by saving” thing and failed, but I don’t believe for a single second that the sequel trilogy is trying to prove that message wrong. It’s just that in TLJ, Rey and Kylo weren’t desperate enough to really understand it. (or they were too desperate). They were still clinging to visions, to perceived notions of “winning” muddling the selflessness of their actions towards each other—Kylo wanted to share his power with an equal, Rey to secure reformed Jedi Ben Solo to the Resistance’s cause so she doesn’t have to be their “only hope”, a burden that probably scares her. They were both trying to placate their loneliness and *win* the other over, for understandable, but still rather self serving reasons. So their convergence was short lived. In IX, they’ll learn to let go, and THEN they’ll be able to make that selfless act of true, unconditional love.

[philippmichelreichold]

#scifi #review this immortal by roger zelazny

#scifi #review this immortal by roger zelazny

Basically

This Immortal, known in an earlier incarnation as Call me Conrad, is one of Zelazny's heroic epics with no less than the fate of humanity at stake. The principal character, Conrad, is typical of most of Zelazny's heros. He is for all practical purposes immortal. Like Bugs Bunny, he does not go out of his way to cause trouble for others, but does not suffer abuse lightly. He plans carefully, trying not to act rashly. And he changes his feelings and views as he grows older and wiser. These traits lead, of course, to conflict. Conrad is retained to give a high caste alien from Vega named Cort Myshtigo a tour of earth for a survey. Because of the relationship between Vegans and humanity, this incites some resentment against the alien and concern for the future of humanity. The smart money has wagered that the way to save humanity is to kill Cort. Conrad makes it plain that he prefers to wait until he has enough information to decide, and spends most of his time shielding Cort from attempts on his life.

Irony

The novel contains a great deal of irony which is used to show mankind returning from the brink of extinction and beginning the process of healing its wounds.. Episodes occur in which the putative destroyer is the instrument of salvation. The first of these occurs in Egypt. Hasan has been hired by the Agency to protect Cort. But as is known or suspected by everyone except Cort, Hasan is also a Radpole agent sent to kill him. In the final ironic twist of this episode, Hasan saves Cort from a boadile while trying to kill him. Other ironies abound. Twice, those thought lost are returned and bring salvation with them. The first returned is Conrad's dog, Bortran. Bortran had gone missing years earlier and has been searching for his master ever since. After Conrad returns to Greece on this tour, Bortran crosses his trail. He catches up with Conrad just in time to rescue him from the Kouretes. Next to return from the presumed dead is Conrad's wife, Cassandra. While burning an old friend, Conrad and his party are set upon by the Beast of Thessaly. In a dramatic sequence worthy of Dickens, they battle the Beast until Cassandra plays Zeus and strikes the Beast dead . In a more prolonged twist, the Radpole is trying to kill the one Vegan who can save earth and set it free. Throughout the story Conrad repeatedly intercedes to stay his execution, opposing the Radpole which he had founded decades before. The final irony is in the very nature of the Kallikanzaros. Rather than being the instrument of the world's destruction as in Greek myth, he is to be its savior.

Symbolism

Symbols of loss, destruction and ultimate redemption strengthen the themes presented through the use of irony. Symbols of the destruction of earth's civilization include the spiderbats, the Kouretes, the Beast of Thessaly and the threatened dismantling of the Pyramids. The beginning of the restoration of civilization is symbolized by the return of Bortran and Cassandra as well as the destruction of the Kouretes, the Beast of Thessaly and the inroads being made against the spiderbats. Conrad symbolizes earth civilization itself. Cort refers to him as a sort of "ghost of place." The restoration of Bortran and Cassandra, essential to Conrad's wholeness as a person, support this symbolism. Also, Conrad's fungal rash, present at the beginning of the story, has been eliminated at the end. He still has his limp, but his healing has begun, and like the earth itself, he endures

Steve Troy calls This Immortal a "lighthearted romp." And it is. This in no way detracts from the seriousness of Zelazny's themes or nor does it reduce the effectiveness of his presentation. It does make the story more enjoyable. The twists and rescues do not merely heighten suspense and grip the reader. They also provide the framework for the irony and symbolism that carry Zelazny's themes of returning from the brink and of recovering from destruction.

QUOTES

My thinking is usually pretty good, but I seem to do it after I do my talking-- by which time I've generally destroyed all basis for further conversaton.

If heaven didn't want me then, I'm not going to ask a second time.

Vocabulary

adytum- "1 the innermost room or shrine in certain old temples, to be entered only by priests 2 a sanctum" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

bouzouki-"a stringed musical instrument of Greece, somewhat like a mandolin, used to accompany folk dances and singers" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

cadge- "to beg or get by begging; sponge" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

caique- 1. a light skiff used on the Bosporus 2. a Levantine sailing vessel(Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Cassandra- Conrad's new wife. According to  Bulfinch's Mythology, "Queen Hecuba and her daughter Cassandra were carried captives to Greece. Cassandra had been loved by Apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should never be believed." In This Immortal, Conrad disbelieves both Cassandra's accurate warnings of danger and her later prediction that things will go well.

chthonic- "1.designating or of the underworld of the dead and its gods or spirits 2.dark, primitive, and mysterious" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

felucca- "a small, narrow ship propelled by oars or lateen sails and used esp. in the Mediterranean" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

galabieh-"(variant of djellaba)-a long, loose outer garment worn in Arabic countries"(Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

Kouretes- "returns this line from the play The Bacchae by Euripides:" 'O secret chamber of the Kouretes and you holy Cretan caves, parents to Zeus, where the Korybantes with triple helmet invented for me in their caves this circle..." That is because the Curetes (the more common spelling) were spirits on the island of Crete who protected the newly born god Zeus when his mother Rhea hid him from his father Cronos, who would otherwise have eaten the baby. The Curetes danced around banging spears on shields to make a clattering din to drown out Zeus's cries.'" (email post from Joel Skidmore.webmaster@muwekma.org.98-06-30 21:11:42 EDT)  ouzo- "a colorless Greek liqueur flavored with aniseed" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

Ozymandias- "Here are two verses from the poem Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822):

'I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read."

... "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.'"

(email post from Joel Skidmore.webmaster@muwekma.org.98-06-30 21:11:42 EDT)

Piraeus- "seaport in SE Greece, on the Saronic Gulf: part of Athens' metropolitan area: pop. 184,000: ModGr name PEIRAIEVS" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

 Satyr- "The Satyrs were deities of the woods and fields. They were conceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet." (Bulfinch's Mythology)

Skinner boxes- "an enclosure in which small animals, as rats or pigeons, are conditioned by rewards and punishments to perform certain acts in response to specific stimuli" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

steatopygiac- "having "a heavy deposit of fat in the buttocks or thigh"(Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

syrinx- "pipes of Pan", upon which he plays. See:Syrinx; Encyclopedia Mythica for more information.

Thespis- "Gr. poet: traditionally the originator of Gr. tragedy" (Excerpted from Compton's Reference Collection 1996 Copyright (c) 1995 Compton's NewMedia, Inc.)

Characters

Bortran- Conrad's dog

Conrad- hero of the story, "Director of Arts, Monuments, and Archives," Radpol founder, and kallikanzaros

Cort Myshtigo- a wealthy Vegan journalist who wishes to write a book about earth

Dos Santos- hates Vegans, husband of "red wig"

Diane- the girl with the red wig, hates everyone, disfigured by a Vegan disease Radpol member

Dos Santos- hates Vegans, husband of "red wig" Radpol member

Ellen- George's wife, wants to go to Taler, freind of Conrad

George- scientist, entomologist, freind of Conrad wants to poison the spiderbats

Jason- Conrad's son

Hasan- Mercenary hired as Cort's bodyguard

Lorel Sands- earth director appointed by Earth Government onTaler, Conrad's boss and freind

Phil- poet laureate of earth, freind of Conrad

Procrustes- War Chief of the Kouretes  (from Procustes in Myth)

My content creative commons attribution required share alike

image from ISFDB under fair use

[notanotherbookreview]

Gwyn & John Steinbeck’s adobe house in Monterey and Ed Ricketts’ Pacific biological Laboratories in Monterey.

My Life With John Steinbeck Chapter 4, Gwyn describes Ed Ricketts John's friend, muse, and alter-ego.

(Ed Ricketts was a marine biologist, the owner of Pacific Biological Laboratories and a pioneering ecologist. He is known to most people as the inspiration for the charater of “Doc” Ricketts in John Steinbeck’s novel Cannery Row, but Ricketts was also the author of two books on marine biology: Between Pacific Tides and Sea of Cortez.. His lab was a gathering place for writers, artists and musicians, counting among its guests Joseph Campbell, Henry Miller, and of course Steinbeck.)

Three was company, not a crowd in this fond portrait. 

CHAPTER 4 – JOHN, ED RICKETTS AND ME

Millions of words have been penned and spoken of John and Ed Ricketts, some true and some false. I do not profess to know all, but I know much, since I was there and lived through an important part of their lives. Ed Ricketts was possibly one of the finest marine zoologists the world has ever seen, or will see, and his untimely death in an accident was a tragedy. He was one of the most benign men I have ever met, and he became the best friend I ever had. Ed was one of those people who give you strength while they lack that for their own emotional problems, their own involvement with others, both men and women.

John and Ed had a tremendous bond of friendship between them. I never experienced anything from Ed except sheer goodness. He opened my mind to philosophy which I had never skirmished with since school days. To me, Ed was a kind of Jesus. I believe John thought that way, too. Ed wore a beard, this man of middle stature. Everything he did had the essence of kindness in it. If he did not really like you Ed would not display it with unkind words or temper; he just looked at you, smiled and said, ‘Oh yes, really.’ He did not say, ‘Get out of my life, you’re a pain.’ He said, ‘It’s nice meeting you.’

He had this great essence for life, and you could not help but admire it, whatever his faults. He was, in a way, enamored by sex, which perhaps isn’t too bad a fault. John loved Ed’s love of life; Perhaps it was the qualities that Ed displayed all the time that John wished to have but could not show, or would not allow himself to have. With Ed, they were built in, solid.

In our correspondence Ed would write: ‘My dear girl – never be ashamed of using the word “good.” There is much behind that, if you think on it. There is “good” everywhere; sometimes it takes people months, even years to discover it through mistakes, and God knows I have made them, and, anyway, who hasn’t?’ Ed used to say, ‘Don’t bother about hyperbole; simply say you like it – because it is good.’ It was that simple; beauty in that simplicity.

Ed was simple, too, in that he never cared about material things. Life was his work, and music too. He would listen from the moment he got up (if he was alone, he went around the house naked), and throughout the day while he dissected a starfish or anemone, or when he cooked. He would try to cook anything and was a gourmet. Once he said, ‘You can eat from the world if you know how to preserve.’

Ed Ricketts never wavered in his loyalties – John didn’t, either – and would never show jealousy. Even when some of the women he loved and who loved him left him, Ed continued to be their friend. Many times he saved their life. There was a special magic about Ed Ricketts; in many ways he was John’s offspring, the source of the Steinbeck Nile.It is a well-known fact that Ed and John’s correspondence was one of the most prolific between friends other than writers.

Whenever John discussed anything with him, Ed had a way of saying something was not right without saying it, and that is an art. At such times he would sip a beer and look to the ceiling and say, ‘Hmm, hmm, John, but that’s not quite right.’ Never did he say, ‘No, don’t quit.’ For John, sharing moments with Ed – and they shared many – was like going to an analyst. Afterwards John would tell me, ‘I’m all right.’ There was not any problem that he ever took to Ed that he could not solve, where John was at a loss.

I first met Ed in the early forties. John wanted me to meet him to see whether Ed approved of his ‘choice.’ Ed Ricketts watched all life go by, everything. There was nothing in the passing parade that escaped his eye or he could not laugh or cackle about. He was a slow speaker, exceedingly slow; every word he spoke was a saga. The way he spoke was like a Max Beerbohm drawing. Another side of Ed was that you never knew what you were going to eat at his house. God knows, John loved good food. One day, while the rain poured a monsoon, Ed called and asked us over for chicken soup. It was one of those cold, raw Monterey days. We went, and he served the soup in vast bowls, complete with his homemade bread. The soup was delicious, and I know how to make chicken soup.

But Ed’s ‘chicken soup’ was made out of sea cucumbers, which are part of the slug and worm family. He had collected his ‘chicken’ that day, and chopped it up. ‘I simply wanted to try it,’ he said nonchalantly. It was delicious. ‘You can always live off the land or the sea,’ he said, smiling. ‘Goddam it, Ed, I wouldn’t be surprised if you went and made a ground-up clam milk shake!’ said John. ‘Wait a minute, I have to write that down and try it,’ teased Ed. ‘With malt in it,’ added John. \‘What else?’ Ed replied.

Ed should have published a recipe book from the sea and elsewhere. It would have made a fortune. No matter what you said to Ed Ricketts you could not shock him. Take the time he told us about a woman he had picked up some place (and there were many women) when he had been drinking his usual rum or beer. Ed always drank rum or beer. He had been in no hurry. Ed said he felt the woman had been suffering all her life, and he helped her. John and I listened to him, unmoved. Ed always expressed himself freely about his sex life. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we made love and if it hadn’t been for me, she would have never discovered that she had a double vagina.’ ‘What?’ said John. ‘Yes, after the first time, I discovered it,’ he said in a very low tone of voice, but yet completely natural.

In a way, Ed was over-idolized, but maybe John made him that way. There is a story a professor told me, that John and Ed treated each other like Greek sisters, and I think in a way they did, if walking arm in arm on a beach makes you a Greek sister. They had this so-called gypsy pact, and they were brothers. Anyone can do that – if they’re rotten drunk. It is open to conjecture, but I believe that although John, with his own brilliant mind, gave so much to Ed, in turn Ed was a father figure to John.

The three of us had many good times together, and you always came out of them learning something from two great minds. In my eyes, Ed was nine feet tall, although he was only five-foot-six. But he had this aura. When he entered the room everyone stopped, turned their head, and asked, ‘Who is that?’ John once told me Ed would make one hell of a politician because he went around patting babies’ heads. He listened to everyone. Ed wanted to know what everyone else was thinking.

About a year after I first met Ed he had been carrying out research and, since he lived on Cannery Row, he said to me, ‘You know, before I die the Cannery will be dead, and we’ll fish out our waters. Every day we’re going out farther, and I’ve studied the waves, tides and fish schools. Every year when I go down to the wharf, the fishermen tell me they had to go out six miles while the year before it was five.’ He predicted the canneries would die and we would fish out ‘the beautiful waters,’ as Ed always called them. The Cannery was dead before he died.

When John and I were married Ed wrote us that the canneries were closing because we had taken so much from the sea and had given nothing back. He felt about the sea as Jacques Cousteau feels, although Ed pre-empted Cousteau by twenty years.

It was an experience to be with a man who took us out in a dune buggy and said, casually, ‘Oh, there’s a paleolithic rock over there and we’ll find some seashells.’ We would look at the rock and he would turn, saying, ‘All this was under the sea once.’ There wasn’t anything you could discuss with Ed Ricketts that he did not know about; he had an understanding of archaeology and geology as well, but his particular knowledge was of marine biology and the sea.

Ed cared little for money. John financed him. Ed’s laboratory did become a sagging enterprise. He did not have the driving desire for fame that John had; he was a philosopher and a scholar, and there was not one single thing that passed him by that Ed did not study. In his makeup he did not have time to stop and fight. Occasionally he might get tight and then would say, if it were a lady, ‘Lady, you’re full of shit!’ When he spoke it was as if Jesus had said it.

Ed was happy for John and me, although he never visited us in New York. Once, he felt let down because John was not allowed, on medical grounds, to go with him on an excursion to the Aleutian chain. I do believe that John was, unbeknown to himself, highly possessive, and this sometimes showed in his relationship with Ed. In many ways, Ed was a man’s man as well as a woman’s man. I never saw him without a drink, yet only saw him drunk twice. From the moment he arose and started the day, he started on beer, and by two in the afternoon he was on rum. John liked that about him.

Sometimes for breakfast, Ed used to go across the street from the Lab to Wing Chong’s and get six cans of beer, a large hunk of cheese and a pineapple pie. Some breakfast! Ed was what he was, and my life was vastly enriched for knowing him. He never spoke much about his family. Ed loved animals, although he put them to sleep and cut them up; that was his living. ‘You can’t make anybody like you who doesn’t like you,’ he once said. How true.He told John and me the story of when he was a young boy and he had a cat that liked to jump on the mantelpiece in his home in Chicago. His father didn’t like the cat, and it knew it. His father had a high wing chair with a lamp beside it, and would there sit and read the evening paper. Each night the cat would get up, turn around and wet all over his father. ‘Every night my father would say he was going to kill that cat tomorrow. I used to hide the cat. He didn’t kill it. You see,’ said Ed, ‘if you give bad feeling you’re going to get it back.”

If something went wrong and someone tried to start a fight when the three of us were together, Ed would simply look up to the ceiling and say, ‘Well, I guess the cat’s about to piss.’ That was the signal – don’t fight, just get out. But Ed had problems always with women or his love life, his wife or his children. He knew how to solve others’ emotional problems, but not his own. He watched the world go by. Ed read constantly, and I have never seen such a magnificent library as his. He had a constant desire and thirst for knowledge.

I am proud that once he said he liked me, because when he was talking about something I didn’t know about, I would say, ‘I honestly, don’t know what you are talking about.’ Said Ed, ‘Most people say, “Oh yes, uh-huh, I think I know what you’re talking about.” Gwyn never does.’ That was a great compliment coming from a man I so admired. He was never condescending. If I would tire, or be busy he would politely ask forgiveness; never would he say, ‘Get lost, you bother me.’ Sometimes he got angry, but I never saw such control in a man, and he always refused to argue; Ed always wanted to debate a problem. ‘You have your point of view, and I have mine,’ he used to say.

When Ed died a horrible death from injuries after being hit and dragged by a train, John went to pieces. He flew from New York to Monterey. After the funeral, he went to Ed’s house and destroyed diaries and letters, including their letters. Why? I believe John thought there is a beauty in the world you just don’t want others to pore over. Ed Ricketts, John and I shared a special relationship, the kind that comes along once in a lifetime. John left a legacy of great writings to the world. His beloved friend Ed left himself.

Below Gwyn's pueblo house in Monterey and Ed Ricketts' lab. Pacific Biological Laboratories

[dotshiiki]

I read it.

Cut because spoilers, of course.

Okay, it’s kind of hard to sum this book up because, ouch, it’s a real knife in the gut. And I guess I should thank all you guys who read it first (or knew things about it) for not dropping any spoilers at all because ... the thing I thought was a spoiler? Totally wasn’t.

I guess I’ll start with one point I noted somewhere towards the end, which was that the series plot is really heating up now (literally, lol, burning maze heh). And it sort of mirrors what I felt about TC in the initial PJO series. The first two books were lighthearted fun, and then things started to get real in book 3. People died. Characters got deeper. Here we see Meg changing and showing a ruthless side when her ‘roots’ are threatened—and coming into a power she’s not sure she deserves or can control. We see Apollo shocked into really understanding what humanity means. (And I agree that the character death was necessitated to spur that revelatory moment. So from a plot perspective I can accept its necessity. From a I-love-these-characters perspective, I’m gutted that we had to trade Jason for Apollo. Because, you know, four thousand year old god. How’s that fair? But more on my feelings about this later.) We even see ruptures and upheaval in Jason and Piper’s relationship, and Piper on a likely traumatic journey through all of it. The kid gloves are off—We’re not in your average ‘fun adventure’ territory any more and I will admit I was wrong ... RR DID go dark with this one. (To Melpomene indeed.) It will be interesting to see how he moves on after this.

I found the tone shift interesting. It’s really hard to pull off angst with a first-person narrator like Apollo, whose every second sentence is a humorous aside. And I did find that transition tough to swallow. The jokes and comedic references were jarring in the last few chapters, and it makes me wonder if the main character is really capable of matching the overall plot set-up. But ... I guess we’ll see with the next book. (The Tyrant’s Tomb, hmmmm.)

Speaking of the next book, it’s also interesting that we didn’t get the full sonnet prophecy unravelled after all. And yeah I totally messed up predicting that they’d get to Camp Jupiter and then get into the Labyrinth. We didn’t even see anything on that—the whole bad news stuff happened entirely offscreen! (And did we even get a resolution on what that was, or just a cliffy? Surprise surprise, Mr Supreme Lord of the Cliffhangers strikes. You guys think I’m evil with my weekly cliffhangers? We’re waiting a year with all of his!) The only things I managed to guess were Caligula and Incitatus.

So on the character deaths. Wrong about that too: I did not see it coming. I started out this book deathly afraid for Grover. Because at the end of Ship of the Dead, with Percy and Annabeth crying when Magnus contacted them, I was sure they’d suffered a great loss. And since Grover had been summoned at the end of TDP, that seemed to be the logical answer.

So every ‘spoiler’ I came across that hinted at RR actually killing off a character, or alluding to whatever I feared—well, I thought it’d be Grover. I really didn’t even expect Jason and Piper to be a big part of this book, but once that prophecy about one of them popped up, I kind of figured this might be Grover’s get-out-of-Erebus-free card.

Am I relieved Grover didn’t die? Tremendously! (Do NOT mess with the sacred trio, man!) Am I thankful it was Jason instead? Sadly ... yes. I’m sorry. I do love Grover more than Jason, and that’s just that.

Jason still strikes me as this too-perfect character (the kind we’d have called a Gary-Stu in the old days). Always doing the right thing, his ‘flaws’ coming across as not really that deep. (And go ahead and change my mind on this, I’m open to changing my perspective.) I didn’t have a real connection to him, possibly because first impressions—well, he knew nothing about himself ergo the reader knows nothing too. But one thing that IS evident about him: he’s a good friend. He’s still a good guy. And thus the impact his death has—it is tremendous.

So yeah, I’m still gutted that Jason kicked it. And his death scene was pretty darn powerful. Also, the fact that he died broken up with his girlfriend whom he obviously still loved—okay that’s the stuff broken hearts are made of, you know? We got to see all these reactions as well, and more are definitely coming. Remind me to prepare stacks of hankies for next year’s book release. When I think ‘Jason’s dead,’ I just get this sense of ‘huh. Okay.’ (As opposed to the jitters I had all week anticipating this book and thinking we’d lose Grover.) But then I think about Annabeth and Percy getting the news. Of Thalia hearing about it. I got Leo popping in at the end, oh gods. And Reyna, who is certain to be in the next book and probably the third quest member. And I think of all of them dealing with the loss of a good friend and my heart crumbles into teensy tiny pieces. Guys, I do not know how I’m going to drag myself into work tomorrow and attempt to tackle editing my papers because of this devastation.

I’m feeling a bit guilty as well because besides feeling relieved that he died not Grover, it’s almost like as a reader I was all, naaaah don’t like Jason. And then RR goes, I see. All right, he’s expendable, let’s kill him! Do you love him now, huh? It’s almost like the Dobby thing. Everyone probably called him annoying at some point, but you wanna tell me you didn’t shed a tear after Malfoy Manor?

And one last thing that strikes fear into my heart. I am no longer confident that RR will keep the body count down. I mean, he did the Big One—killing off a main character. That’s like a turning point. Like when Sirius died in OotP, you know the books will never be the same. Before I was so excited every time one of the old crew turned up. Now ... I don’t want to see them any more because WHAT IF THEY DIE? Pleeeeeease do not kill Reyna in the next book, for instance. And I am uncomfortably aware that Greek mythology Ends In Tragedy, even though none of the book series have yet ... the idea that this could all end in Everybody Dies frightens me so bad. I’m not sure I’d stay in PJO fandom if there was no more Percy and Annabeth. (And I guess I need to hurry up writing my fic then because I was actually afraid I’d lose motivation if Grover kicked the bucket. I feel like I’ve got a stay of execution here, but next year ... the year after that ... *shivers*)

Okay. Now I need to go and write a ton of angst because thank you, Melpomene, I hope you’re happy.