#Oh and don’t even get me started on the prose is so pretentious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfstarlibrarian · 3 years

Text

Hello lovely friends, and welcome to the second installment of the Beyond the Shelves series! This month the library is featuring @aryastark-valarmorghulis who’s beautiful prose borders on poetry, and always manages to access those lovely tender feelings we so wish to share with the world. Hope you enjoy this interview here, and make sure to check back later today for the list of her favorite fics!

Name/Creative Type: Arya (she/her) / Author

AO3: aryastark_valarmorghulis

Tumblr: @aryastark-valarmorghulis

What's your favorite thing about Remus & Sirius?

Oh, well, this answer will be incredibly sappy.

Let me begin by saying that I am truly disappointed and horrified by JK Rowling and by the harmful, awful views she’s expressed in the last years. I don’t share her ideas and I don’t support her anymore.

Having said that, HP was my childhood and is still incredibly important for me – it helped me, saved me, even, during some very dark and difficult moments, and I believe those books – as flawed as I see them now, as dated as they are – will stay with me until the very end.

Remus and Sirius have been my favorite characters since I read PoA – I was intrigued at once by that tragic yet epic backstory we only get glimpses of and I was very interested in what was left unsaid (the Marauders’ school years, the First War, how their friendship deteriorated, why Remus and Sirius reconnected so quickly).

Even a naive thirteen-year-old could see there was something worth exploring under the surface, and after a few years I opened a fanfiction on LiveJournal: it was the Shoebox Project. From that moment, I started shipping Punk and Nerd-Wolf and never stopped. Even if I left fandom quite a few times during uni, I kept coming back and I’m still here, because I think those two characters have everything a reader and a storyteller need: there’s friendship, self-discovery, queerness, love, betrayal, war and second chances. What else could I want in a pairing?

What do you think your signature is?

I’m not sure I have one, but what I really love is to let the unsaid things speak more than the actual conversations between characters. I often write from Remus’ Pov and he isn’t a big talker for me – not about his feelings anyway – so I try to convey what he doesn’t dare say, which is actually more important than what he does say.

I think objects like clothes or furniture or even houses can carry a lot of hidden significance, and very mundane actions like brewing tea or putting on a record or touching an elbow can convey more feelings than an actual conversation, so I try my best at describing all these things.

What advice would you give new authors?

Write what you like and not what you think other people will like. That's pretty obvious advice.

I would like to say something even more basic for writers like me, whose first language isn’t English: just try!

I know it can be scary to post a story written in a language that isn’t yours and there is the overwhelming fear that you’ll never be as good as a native speaker, but being bilingual can actually be a resource – you can mix together words in unexpected ways and use surprising metaphors.

I won’t lie because there are days where you don’t even know words in your mother tongue, let alone in English, but there’s no harm in trying and this is something we do for free, for ourselves first, and most of all it’s super fun to play with a new language and bend it to our will – sometimes it’s very frustrating and some sentences will never make sense but it’s nothing that a good, trusted Beta can’t fix.

My advice is that it’s worth trying.

What inspires you?/Where do you get your ideas?

I’m actually not sure; I usually get my ideas when I’m about to go to bed and I’m too sleepy and lazy to jot them down, so I can only hope I remember some vague stuff in the morning.

Most of the time I think of a particular atmosphere (a Welsh cottage in the middle of nowhere during a sweltering summer day, a chilly walk in a misty graveyard etc...) and the story develops around it.

Pick a favorite fic of yours and explain what inspired it.

Midday, Midnight is definitely my favourite fic among the ones I’ve written and, I think, the best one. I wrote it very quickly and it didn’t need much editing, except for the usual grammar stuff. It was absolutely unprecedented, it never happened again and probably never will.

I was inspired by two things.

One is this excellent piece of meta by @shaggydogstail regarding the Prank that I absolutely agree with; I was musing over a Post Prank story for a while, mostly because of my disagreement with the trope “The Prank was this huge Greek Tragedy that foreshadows the lack of trust between Remus & Sirius etc”.

The second thing I had in mind was writing something that respects Aristotle’s Classical Unities: a story that lasts for no more than 24 hours, with a single plotline and only one location. The many quotes by Ovid and Sappho underline this classic inspiration. I am acutely aware of how pretentious this sounds, just in case you were wondering.

I knew I wanted to write something about the (lack of) consequences after the Prank, and the idea of a fun summer romance came to me after reading that meta and the interesting discussion that it created.

⭐🌙

Last Month’s interview with @theprongsletthatlived can be found here.

#beyond the shelves #aryastark-valarmorghulis #wolfstar #remus x sirius #interview #creator spotlight

100 notes · View notes

belle-keys · 3 years

Text

I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉

38 notes · View notes

comradesummers · 3 years

Note

Top 5 books or anything I should read

Hi, thanks for asking!

I’m an English major, so I can’t remember the last time I read a book that wasn’t for class. But I’ll try to recall what it was like to read books solely for pleasure. Also, I’m not going to be ranking the books because I don’t want to and I’m going to have 6 books instead of 5 because I feel like it. (Fair warning: I could write a lengthy content warning for every single one of these books, so if you’re worried about that sort of thing, I do recommend you look them up before you read them. You’re also welcome to ask me about it.)

Catch 22 by Joseph Heller

So this book was extremely written by a white guy in the 60′s. It’s the kind of novel that galaxy brain dudebros are constantly recommending to their girlfriends. But given that I put a David Foster Wallace book on this list, I might just have to accept that I’m a galaxy brain dudebro at heart.

Anyway, this novel is a brilliant deconstruction of the absurdity and tragedy of war and capitalism. It’s hilarious, clever and heartbreaking. I think a lot of authors do the non-chronological timelilne thing just to seem more interesting than they actually are, but in Catch-22, the non-linear timeline is used perfectly. The narrative works on an emotional level (even if it’s a bit confusing on the linear level) so that a lot of plot points that are initially presented as funny and absurd become such emotional gut punches later. For a book that’s known for being so clever and above it all, it is also unabashedly emotional and Heller truly cares about his characters in a way that very few satirists do. It’s a book that will make you laugh and cry and care a whole lot more than you were expecting to.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

So this is kind of a weird one for me. It’s really short, more like a novella than a novel, which isn’t usually my thing. Also, the characters aren’t really characters, they’re archetypes (which is done on purpose, because that’s how a lot of short stories work, but I know that’s a turn-off for some people). I’m also not a huge horror fan and this is one of Gaiman’s more horror-y outings. So why do I love it so much? Well, it’s basically Childhood Trauma, the book, and it does that really really well. Like, through it’s archetypes and its horror tropes and its general use of shorthand, it captures this really specific atmosphere of nostalgia and fear. It’s like one short but perfectly constructed dose of pain and catharsis and it achieves that through restraint. It’s a brilliant little piece and I love it a whole lot.

Beloved by Toni Morrison

So, if it’s not clear by now, I love me some good emotional storytelling and there’s no genre more beholden to emotion than the gothic novel. And, with all due respect (and love) to the Bronte sisters, Beloved is the best gothic novel of all time. I’m honestly struggling to explain why it’s so good. Partially because everyone already knows its good. I mean, it’s a classic for a reason. But partially because talking about this book and its contents is really difficult. This is the saddest book I’ve ever read. There’s no other book that destroyed me quite as much as this one. I’ll probably never reread it because it was so hard to get through the first time. Morrison’s prose truly takes you to the depths of the pain of her characters. It presents the horrors of slavery mostly through the trauma of the aftermath and it does so with such care and brilliance. This book is truly a masterpiece and if anything on this list is required reading, especially for my fellow clueless white people, it’s this one.

Brief Interviews With Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace

I was considering leaving this one off the list, just because I was embarassed to admit that I’m the kind of person who likes David Foster Wallace. I mean, I might as well start vaping and mansplaining while I’m at it. But I decided to be honest instead, so here we are.

Anyway, I was never able to get through DFW’s headier stuff. Like I really did try to read Infinite Jest, but I could not get through it. But Brief Interviews is a short story collection, which is great, because if DFW gets too far up his own ass in one of the stories, you can just skip to another one. And to be honest, I do think there are some shitty stories in this one (wtf is that Tri-Stan shit David?). But the ones that work? Holy shit do they work. I’m not even remotely kidding when I say that The Depressed Person is what finally convinced me to go to therapy. Like I read it and I realized that if I related to the character that much, I really did need help. It’s such a good story and if you don’t want to read the whole book, at least read that one. Personally, I think it’s the best thing DFW has ever written. And the interviews themselves are almost as brilliant. Like, I know that DFW is most well known for his post-modern experimental style and his weird obsession with tennis, but honestly, I think he’s at his best when he writes character studies. He’s really good at creating uniquely shitty human beings and then truly getting to the core of why they are that way. And Brief Interviews is the crowning achievement of that.

Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin

So James Baldwin is a genius, obviously, and there are plently of novels of his I could have chosen for this list. I went with this one because I love books that follow multiple generations of one family, and this book is easily the best version of that that I’ve ever read. It’s a novel about the cycle of abuse, religion, racism, segregation, poverty, police brutality, coming-of-age and sexuality. And even though the book is pretty short, it covers all of these themes brilliantly and thoughtfully and with such love and care. It’s also semi-autobiographical, which is probably why it feels so personal and gut-wrenching. Objectively, it’s probably the best book on this list. It truly is a masterpiece from beginning to end. Also, no offense to Umberto Eco, but it has the best religion based hallucination/vision from God (depending on how you choose to read the scene) scene in any book ever.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

So I know I said I wouldn’t rank anything, but this is probably my favorite book ever. The best way I can think to convey my love for it is to tell you that I’ve associated it with an unrelated song (The Only Living Boy in New York) and there are few things I care about more in the world than making sure that that song will be used in one particular scene in the inevitable TV adaptation, even though I know that’s never going to happen because it would be a completely anachronistic song choice.

It’s hard for me to describe why I love this book so much. Part of it comes down to a really specific personal connection. My grandpa, like Joe, escaped the Holocaust and went to New York and had a really close relationship with a distant cousin of his because the Nazis had killed most of his extended family. So yeah, as a Jew, this book hits pretty hard. But also, as is probably pretty apparent by now, I love pretentious prose that uses way too many big words. I also love emotional and thematic stortytelling and oh boy does this book have that in spades. And the character work is so gorgeous and I care about these people’s relationships so much and the comic book sequences recapture the feeling of golden age comic books so perfectly and god I love it so fucking much.

#christ that was hard #also shoutout to cloud atlas which i remembered halfway through writing this thing but i was too lazy to add a section for it #catch 22 #joseph heller #the ocean at the end of the lane #neil gaiman #beloved #toni morrison #brief interviews with hideous men #david foster wallace #go tell it on the mountain #james baldwin #the amazing adventures of kavalier and clay #michael chabon

56 notes · View notes

aboutnothingness · 2 years

Note

Are there any Bowie biographies that you would recommend? I would love to learn more about him! 🖤

Ah finally - I can RANT ABOUT THIS!!!

First of all, my goodness are there a lot of biographies about him. Second of all, I’m pretty sure that 80% of them are better than any of those written about Freddie which makes me SO angry but ANYWAY –

I’ve only read one in entirety and I’m reading a second one now, so I’m not the most informed yet (I’m working on it though). I read ‘On Bowie’ (Rob Sheffield) first and it was a great introduction to him. A good general view with a hefty dose of melancholia due to Bowie’s recent death at the time of writing. There’s personal splices put in by the author about life in general in the ‘70s which is great for context for Queen as well, and I enjoyed it for that. The writing is very good. And it really does do a good job of explaining specific periods etc. A good introductory text that is short and won’t bore, but will give you some place to start. (Sidenote: this book made me slightly angry for basically being incredibly one-sided. I get having a favourite artist, but some of the claims the author makes are blatantly hollow and uninformed (and he’s a music critic so...). A lot of things he attributes to Bowie were actually done by Freddie first *cough*making a farewell album*cough* but that’s really just me being a bitchy girl who’s eternally devoted to Freddie)

What I’m reading right now is ‘The Age of Bowie.’ (Paul Morley) DO NOT READ THIS FIRST. Go do some research THEN read this. It’s probably my favourite biography I’ve EVER READ though, so I can’t recommend it enough. Even if you don’t care a whit about Bowie I’m telling everyone to read this because it’s a GLORIOUS piece of writing. It’s entirely too pretentious, filled with poetic prose, lingering and extended psychoanalysis, with half the book focusing on Bowie before he was famous, studying mime, growing up in a standard, standoffish English family, consisting of unending runon sentences like this one 😉 It’s got a ton of references to books Bowie read, to his lyrics, to cultural influences around him. It’s just fantastic and I’m so SO angry that there’s nothing like it for Freddie. Seriously. I love this book. It’s long as heck (I’m only 60% through it) but will give you so much to think about and explore and oh my goodness is it fantastic. Have I said that enough? (If I were to write a bio about Freddie it would read something like this book) Yeah, anyway. That’s all I’ve got for you thus far.

I so wish we had this kind of literature for Freddie and reading about Bowie has just made me yearn for more of the same for Freddie.

#haha sorry for GOING OFF about this lmao #though getting more perspective about this era has been one of the most enjoyable takeaways

4 notes · View notes

lostinmirkwood · 3 years

Text

Iambic Pentameter

Catch up from the beginning. Read Chapter 2.

She’s Got The Look

Arya glared down at her notebook, blank except for the pen doodles in the margins. She would love her final period Literature class if only Mr. Dondarrion would let them read something written by someone other than old, dead, white men. Who decided that Steffon Fossoway had more literary value than Nymeria Ny Sar? Nymeria was a Rhoynish rebel during the Valyrian uprisings and her writings reflected the plight of her people as they fled across the Sunset Sea to Dorne. Fossoway just wanted to relive his “glory days” of war through stilted sentence structure and pretentious metaphors about sunlight. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d petitioned Mr. Dondarrion to allow her to take the senior level class as a junior.

She would also love this class even more if there was a seating arrangement that didn’t have Joffrey Baratheon sitting directly behind her. He kept knocking his foot against her chair leg and she was going to lose it on the little snot-nosed southern princeling if he didn’t knock it off soon. She didn’t care that their fathers were best friends, that his grandfather was on the Small Council, and his mother was THE King’s Landing socialite, he was a prick. One who seemed to know just how to push her buttons. If she could keep a lid on her frustration that would be a small victory for her.

Arya tuned back in to the lecture just as one of her classmates was lavishing praise on Fossoway, “His prose is so romantic,” Marella Rosby was gushing.

Arya scoffed audibly, “Romantic? Fossoway? He was a misogynistic alcoholic who spent most of his life trying to shag Aerion Targaryen’s leftovers.”

From behind her Joffrey cut in, “As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous twit who has no friends?”

Arya rolled her eyes. She could see Mr. Dondarrion sigh when she carried on as though she hadn’t heard Joffrey, “I guess in our society being a male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time, Baratheon ,” she could hear his snicker. “What about Argella Durrandon, or Elissa Farman, or Nymeria Ny Sar? Why can’t we read something from-”

The classroom door swung open, cutting her off. The half of the class that wasn’t already facing Arya, and unintentionally the door, to watch her soapbox turned as one to see who was there. Standing in the doorway was Gendry Waters, his unruly black hair falling over his high forehead into his bright blue eyes, scruff decorating his sharp jawline, and the other reason Arya couldn’t enjoy her Literature class. When he even bothered to show up to class he always sat brooding in the back corner smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. He never participated in discussions, she never saw him turn in work, and when it was time for partnered essay editing she always seemed to get stuck with him. He’d flip through the first few pages of her draft before sliding it back to her with a wink and nary a word or a pen mark before slipping out of the classroom as soon as Mr. Dondarrion’s back was turned. It was infuriating.

“What did I miss?” His school bag was hanging haphazardly over his shoulder as he leaned against the door frame, everyone’s attention now firmly on him.

Arya rolled her eyes, and turned back towards the front of the classroom, “Just the oppressive, patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

“Cool,” with a crash the door swung shut behind him as her annoyance returned to whatever it was he did when he wasn’t sitting in Junior Literature, ignoring her essays and winking those blue eyes at her.

Mr. Dondarrion sighed again, his head in his hands. “Miss Stark, thank you for sharing your opinion on Steffon Fossoway and our curriculum. You’re dismissed.”

Arya’s jaw dropped, she hadn’t done anything today to warrant this, “But, Mr. Dondarrion!”

“Dismissed, Miss Stark.”

With a huff, Arya slapped her notebook closed and stood. She made sure to clip Joffrey’s shoulder with her elbow as she stepped past him, fuming, into the hall.

---

Miss Tarth raised a pale eyebrow as Arya swept into the Main Office. “Mr. Dondarrion, again?” she asked, knowingly. Arya nodded before pointing at Ms. Smallwood’s open door with a cocked eyebrow of her own. Miss Tarth sighed and gestured for Arya to enter the guidance counselor’s office. Ms. Smallwood was typing away at her computer talking under her breath as Arya stood in the doorway. Suddenly her head shot up and she shouted, “Brienne! What’s another word for ‘engorged’?”

Arya turned back to look at the secretary. Miss Tarth was staring at the ceiling with a long suffering expression and a slight blush before she replied, “I’ll look it up.”

Arya stepped all the way into the counselor’s office, closing the door behind her, “Turgid?”

Ms. Smallwood cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment. “Perfect!” she chirped before making a few keystrokes and waving Arya into the plain wooden chair in front of her desk. “So, I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Dondarrion’s Literature class again.”

Arya frowned as she sat, “Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.”

Ms. Smallwood looked up from her computer and adjusted her spectacles, “The way you expressed your opinion to Elmar Frey? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went well, if you’re interested.”

Arya faked a concerned smile, “Good for him. I still maintain that he kicked himself in the balls.”

Ms. Smallwood sighed, “The point is Arya, people find you a bit…”

“Tempestuous?” Arya supplied.

“Bitch from the Seventh Hell is the term used most often. You might want to work on that.” With that the older woman gave a firm nod and turned back to her computer screen.

Arya stared at Ms. Smallwood for a moment before standing to leave, obviously dismissed, “As always, thank you for your excellent guidance. I’ll let you get back to Aegon’s quivering member.”

The door swung shut behind her and Arya heard Ms. Smallwood mumble, “‘Quivering member’, I like that. I’m going to use that,” as the frantic typing resumed.

---

The day finally ended and Pod found himself back in the main courtyard with Hot Pie again. Hot Pie was going on about some hostile take-over in the KLP Baking Club that had his croissants branded “store-bought” much to his offense and dismay. Pod nodded along vaguely as he scanned the courtyard for shining copper hair, straightening slightly when Sansa Stark finally made her appearance. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her arrival though, sprawled on a low wall near them was a small group of guys ringed around a smug-looking blond who was clearly their leader. One of the boys nudged the blond as Sansa approached with the same friend from that morning. Both Sansa and the blond made eye contact as the girls walked by, Sansa smiling shyly and tossing her hair as they went. Just as they passed the blond called out, “Looking good ladies.”

Both girls glanced back briefly as he gave them an appreciative once over before they continued on through the courtyard, giggling as they made their way towards the parking lot. Pod felt nearly invisible as Sansa and her friend passed by him and Hot Pie without so much as a glance in their direction. He sighed quietly and turned back towards Hot Pie who was shaking his head slightly at Pod’s reaction.

Before either of them could speak they heard one of the boys in the circle around the blond say, “She’s out of reach even for you, Joff.”

The blond scoffed, “No one’s out of reach for me.”

“Want to put money on that?” the other boy replied.

“Money I’ve got. This I’ll do for fun.” Joff sneered.

Pod huffed in disgust and it was Hot Pie’s turn to sigh. Slinging an arm around Pod’s shoulders he turned them away from the other boys, “That, my friend, is Joffrey Lannister. Richest asshole at KLP, don’t mess with him. Rumor has it he once had a kid expelled for taking the last energy drink out of the vending machine right before he got there. He’s a model too.”

“Wait, he’s a model?” Pod laughed.

“Mostly regional stuff, but word on campus is he’s got a big tube sock ad coming up.”

“Really?” both boys snickered before Pod looked back towards Sansa who had paused with her friend at the edge of the courtyard, “Man, look at her. Is she always so-”

“Vapid?” Hot Pie commented.

“How can you say that! She’s-”

“Totally conceited,” Hot Pie deadpanned.

“No! There’s more to her than you think. Just look at her. There’s something in her eyes. She’s totally pure. You’re missing what’s there!” Pod exclaimed quietly, aware that his voice could carry through the crowd if he wasn’t careful. He wanted to woo Sansa, not have her start off thinking he was a creep.

“No Pod,” Hot Pie sighed, “What’s there is a haughty little princess wearing a strategic sundress that makes guys like us realize we can never touch her. And guys like Joffrey realize they want to. Put her in your spank bank and move on, man.”

“No, no. You’re wrong about her. Well,” he paused for a moment, “maybe not about the last bit but the rest, you’re wrong.”

“Oh I’m wrong?” Pie smirked slightly, “You know, she’s actually looking for a Volanti tutor.”

“That’s perfect!”

“You speak Volanti?” Hot Pie questioned, looking surprised that Pod had jumped on his suggestion so quickly.

“Uh, no. But I will!” Surely it couldn’t be that hard. They could learn it together if he could just stay a lesson or two ahead. He’d just moved here, no one needed to know he’d taken two, broken up, years of Braavosi. The root language was the same, he could fake it, right?

#iambic pentameter #gendrya #gendrya fanfic #10 things i hate about you AU #arya stark #gendry waters #my writing #chapter 2: she's got the look #in which we meet arya and gendry #and podrick hatches the start of a plan #we've reached the 10 minute mark of the movie

16 notes · View notes

iatheia · 3 years

Text

EDA reviews Part 1 - books 1-9

I’ve decided to take a bit of a break from the black hole that is Big Finish (I��m more than half way through listening to their library, but, oh, god, it feels like they will never end at times) and venture into another black hole that are the novels. Eighth Doctor Adventures seemed like a good place to start. I’ve committed to reading all of them (no matter how tempting it will inevitably get to skip some). Since they are not talked about as much as some of the other EU iterations out there, I’ve figured I’ll write short blurbs as a reviews - with 73 novels in total, would probably post them collated every 9 books or so.

Also, Since this is kind of a meme for Eight, couple of novels convinced me doing amnesia watches together with the reviews. #1 was in the movie. 1) Eight Doctors - well, this kind of was a waste of time. Just a run through of the greatest hits of previous Doctors with varying degree of success in terms of doing their characters justice (which they didn’t give good ol’ Sixie at all). Eight is barely a caricature of his self, nevermind that this is his second outing ever. Absolutely terrible way to introduce Sam, she is literally in just three scenes. 6/10 Amnesia watch: #2 & 3 (twice in a span of 5 minutes, once from the Master, once from being hit on the head, setting the record high off the bat!)

2) Vampire Science - Well, bringing Sam to a (gay?) bar in 1970′s right off the bat where she chats up another girl was absolutely A Choice that this novel has made, and I respect it for that. As for the rest... Eight is starting to become himself, but he is still written a bit like Seven at times. The plot is a bit mess, and, especially in conjunction with the previous novel, there are officially too many vampires. It gets more entertaining towards the back end of it. A decent enough read, even though a bit of an oddity. 8/10

3) The Bodysnatchers - Now we are getting into something juicy! Throughly enjoyable from beginning to end, excellent character work on Eight and Sam. 9/10

4) Genocide - Ah, casual attempt of sexual assault on a companion, how original. Overall, completely meh. Too many characters, too many settings, overly convoluted, back to chess master Doctor, completely missing the point of bringing up legacy characters in the most pointless way. 4/10

5) War of the Daleks - This was, apparently, the first Dalek story in the novel form? They didn’t have one for VNAs??? Almost impossible to believe. Well, the story is a bit trite, a convoluted set up that was seen a thousands of times now, especially with the over-saturation of the Daleks in the recent years. But, the story is a lively one. There are definitely worse ones featuring Daleks out there. 8/10

6) Alien Bodies - blimey, haven’t read such pretentious dribble in a long while... Too self-absorbed in this grandiose masterplan that is about to unfold to worry much about character stuff, that I gave up trying to keep track of after a while. Except, that grandiose masterplan is exposed in such a way that it’s literally in a book that the Doctor carries, handing it to Sam the second she starts asking questions, and then she immediately throws the book away.... Overall, Eight has never been less likable. Sam is reduced to nothing more than a screaming damsel in distress - that’s putting it generously. The less that could be said about everyone and everything around them the better. And the worst of all, it’s boring, the prose is pretty banal, too much exposition, and it rambles on and on and on... Judging by the word count this is the second longest book out of all EDAs (the longest, third, and fourth longest are also by the same writer, they are a good 20-30K words longer than anyone else’s). If it had any heart and soul in it at all, it’d be one thing, but it’s like pulling teeth. Really makes me apprehensive about the rest of the Faction Paradox cropping up in other novels, and certainly all the other novels by him... 3/10 Amnesia watch: #4 (kind of, remembering stuff from the previous amnesias)

7) Kursaal - Boringly mediocre. It starts off not horrible by any means, has decent characterization, and at moments even verges on something exciting, but those moments are embedded into a somewhat middling adventure. And then it flies off the rails into the uncanny. And, um... no. Just no. 5/10

8) Option Lock - This story is too grandiose for its own good. Just as I settled in for some shenanigans in a mysterious quaint English mansion, I was slapped in a face with an international political thriller. Any time there was a change of setting or a time skip, it was disorienting. And was that a stray Stargate reference I caught? It would have been better served as a Stargate novel, I’ll be honest. After all the set up is over and done with, it’s a bit easier to follow, not terribly written either. But it’s a bit blink and you miss it - is it the second time Sam was responsible for someone’s death, kind of, under mind control? Not sure I like the trend that is starting to emerge. 6/10

9) Longest Day - Starting off right of the bat with misogyny, stalking, and violence against women, frequently from the titillating point of view of a self proclaimed “nice guy”.... It’s actually not that badly written. The prose is solid, the plot is easy to follow, it’s pretty emotionally complex, the ending is pretty gut-wrenching. I just wish it had less attempted rape and later gratuitous gore that soured me a bit on the story 7/10

Overall impressions so far: Well, these novels (certainly so far) are very much a mixed bag. A couple of more enjoyable ones, but their main virtue is being inoffensively charming. The rest are... less so. Some authors seem to have a clear grasp of Eight’s character straight from the get go, but not all of them do.

Sam is nice enough, as far as companions are concerned, but often she comes across too much like Ace but without explosives - I don’t really know what makes her tick beyond that. It is not a small part due to different writers slotting in for their own idea what a companion should be. You have a slew of younger sister/niece/student/friend/just a dash romantically involved/barely there at all, depending on the novel. In that manner, there doesn’t seem to be a unifying vision for the novels, each writer just does their own thing.

Next part here

#doctor who #eighth doctor #eighth doctor adventures #eda

10 notes · View notes

sophielovesbooks · 5 years

Text

Sophie’s Dark Academia Rec List

In honour of my favourite genre, have a very personal, very subjective recommendations list!

- The Secret History (Donna Tartt)

The obvious choice, a classic. In my personal opinion, it’s not perfect and there are better dark academia books out there, but it has massively shaped the genre and therefore deserves recognition. Also, the aesthetic is on point! Read if you want to get a feel for the genre or if you’re simply curious.

- If We Were Villains (M. L. Rio)

Basically a newer, better The Secret History?? Plenty of similarities, minus certain problematic bits that were present in TSH. Amazing prose, incredible characters, absolutely worth the read. A prime example of dark academia! Read if you love Shakespeare and college settings and compelling characters and drama and just beautiful writing!

- Black Chalk (Christopher J. Yates)

Also a fairly good example of the genre, but tragically underhyped. Darker than, for example, If We Were Villains. Set at Oxford! Will mess with your head. The characters are not necessarily likeable, but interesting. The writing is fairly complex. Read for a dark academia thriller which takes the unreliable narrator to an impressive new extreme (in a good way!)

- Truly Devious (Maureen Johnson)

A rare YA dark academia book! Read for murder and mystery and a beautiful boarding school setting as well as a really likeable main character! Due to its nature less dark and somewhat less mature than most of the other books on this list, but if you’re looking for more of a quick and fun dark academia read, this is the one for you!

In a similar vain: The Vanishing Stair (Maureen Johnson)

Cannot actually vouch for this as I haven’t read it yet, but it’s the sequel to Truly Devious and I have heard good things.

- The Secret Place (Tana French)

MASSIVELY underappreciated dark academia with (gasp) supernatural elements?! The most beautiful prose and funniest dialogue you will ever see. Incredible characters. Again, amazing boarding school setting and close group of female friends! (They will break your heart). Also murder. Also half of the story being told from a detective’s PoV. Read if you value good literature. Just. Read it.

- The Likeness (Tana French)

Actually, maybe I was kidding before, maybe this book is the most underappreciated dark academia book out there? Either way, it’s my favourite. Within dark academia and within ALL OF THE BOOKS. This is it. The perfect novel. Characters that own my hearts to this day. Writing so beautiful that it had me sobbing uncontrollably on several occasions. The university it is set in is Trinity College Dublin. (Cue me being bitter that I don’t go there every single day for the rest of my life.) Very intriguing mystery, too. Hilarious dialogue. All the emotions. All the heartbreak. Just… I love it so much, okay? <3

- The Lying Game (Ruth Ware)

Good, very good. Set in a boarding school near the ocean, but unfortunately, only the past tense story line is and we don’t get to see too much of it. Very interesting characters. Much heavier on the dark than the academia. Read if you’re looking for more of a classic murder mystery/thriller and are not too focussed on the academia. Also read for an interesting group of female friends.

- The Basic Eight (Daniel Handler)

Very promising, but wasn’t my cup of tea at all. The setting is an American High School on the West Coast. The murder isn’t that much of a mystery. I’m mentioning it here because I know that other people love this book, even though I really didn’t. I would say don’t read, but see for yourself, I suppose.

- The Lessons (Naomi Alderman)

Yes, okay, an interesting one. Set at Oxford, which was amazing. Interesting characters with interesting dynamics. I read it quickly and was quite entertained. But there were certain problematic bits (regarding LGBTQ+ representation and mental illness), so you’ve been warned. Not my fave, but I mostly enjoyed it while reading it.

There are a few more dark academia books on my shelves, which I unfortunately cannot include on this list, as I haven’t read them yet. One of them is “The Lake of Dead Languages” by Carol Goodman. Another is “Brideshead Revisited” by Evelyn Waugh. Might edit this post later to add these and more. xx

UPDATE!! (With slightly longer descriptions this time, because people are actually reading this? Reblogging even? Wow!)

- The Lake of Dead Languages (Carol Goodman)

THE ALL-FEMALE DARK ACADEMIA NOVEL WE ALL NEED AND DESERVE…?? The setting is A++. An all-female boarding school in the Adirondack Mountains in New York! There is a lake that features so heavily in the story, it basically counts as a main character. Told from the PoV of a teacher who used to go to the school. There are two close groups of female friends, one in the present timeline, one in the past. Both have dark, dark secrets and both fit the dark academia genre so well! Also, heavy focus on Latin rather than Ancient Greek, which I have all the love for. This one is a gem, so give it a chance!

- Brideshead Revisited (Evelyn Waugh)

An actual classic, as in… first published in 1945. And it reads like it. The beginning came with beautiful vibes! Our young boy Charles starting his time at Oxford, meeting a lot of pretentious people, including one Lord Sebastian Flyte, who Charles is suspiciously fascinated by. Sebastian is the biggest dork to ever dork, carries around with him an actual teddy bear named Aloysius, the absolute madmen?? But it’s all downhill from there, with alcoholism and war and depressing times… And Oxford only really features in the first half or less.

- People Like Us (Dana Mele)

Another rare YA dark academia!! Features a group of Mean Girls who one day, when out at night to go swimming, find one of their classmates floating dead in the lake. Which is an excellent dark academia set-up, let’s be honest. Also, sapphic girls, incredible sapphic girls with really complex relationships! Bi main character! A fun and quick read, much like “Truly Devious”. More descriptions of the beautiful boarding school buildings would have been welcome, but at least we got a few! Anyway, go forth and enjoy this little beauty.

- Party Girls Die in Pearls (Plum Sykes)

Umm… I barely even comprehend this book’s existence? Has a prime dark academia set-up with a murdered girl in Oxford, but I still somehow DNF’d it after about 20 pages?! The main character’s name is Ursula Flowerbutton, and if you think that’s quirky and funny… good for you, you might actually enjoy this book. But you’ll also have to endure descriptions of clothes, oh, so many descriptions of clothes! And for anything unique to Oxford that might make the book fun because only those who know will know… you’ll get a footnote. So actually, everyone will know, with zero effort. Definitely not for me, but if you want to read a glossy magazine style dark academia, knock yourself out, friend!

- The Night Climbers (Ivo Stourton)

Breath-taking! A piece of beauty! Set at Cambridge (and the campus features heavily!), a main character reminiscent of Richard Papen, an intriguing group of new friends that he would do anything to belong with. Including… climbing the buildings of Cambridge at night? Without proper equipment, just with his hands and feet?? Honestly, out of the books on this list, this one is the closest in style and maturity and characterisation to The Secret History! The writing is absolutely gorgeous, the plot fascinating. And it’s dark academia that features a non-violent crime, which works surprisingly well. All in all: A STUNNER THAT FANS OF THE SECRET HISTORY SHOULD CHECK OUT!!

- As I Descended (Robyn Talley)

A queer, sapphic Macbeth retelling?? Also a rare YA dark academia with strong supernatural elements?! The representation is on point, with two hispanic main characters, wlw, mlm and one of the girls in the main couple being disabled! The boarding school setting is also on point (and uniquely different as the school building is actually a former plantation in Virginia). This book is so different and so spooky! It wasn’t perfect and some say the retelling didn’t work 100% (I, personally, felt that the plot slowed down a bit), but the atmosphere is amazing and the characters are pretty cool, too!

Not to worry, my quest to find and read as many DA books as possible isn’t over. So this list might be updates again some time in the future! :)

16K notes · View notes

peachymess · 4 years

Text

This might sound really stupid. But it took me 28 years to realize that there are two categories to literature - just like to cinema and music.

There’s the books written to be entertaining, and then there’s the books written to be art.

Now, I’m not picking up the value debate. Enjoy what you enjoy - in a society that hungers for constant entertainment/distraction, it’s a poor argument to say entertainment is lesser than “art” (or that is “isn’t art” at all).

Personally, I’ve always enjoyed consuming media that invokes thinking and reflection, rather than the media that strives to keep you entertained. Of course there are overlaps in either direction, but I think you know what I mean. It takes more energy to get through “NAKED” than “21 Jump street” - and it likely leaves you with much more juicy mental aftermath to sift through too. (While on the other hand, you will likely be in a much more elated mood after the latter).

I didn’t look down on fast and easy cinema (much); it just wasn’t my cup of tea. I had a grasp of the difference in cinema - probably because Hollywood made it so obvious - but due to the many examples of overlap and grey area, I never quite saw the categories clearly. I didn’t see that they’re inherently different from conception - and from there: in their entire process of creation.

I paid close attention to Norwegian literature throughout the years, and one topic I never quite could find an answer to, was: why do some books win acclaim and awards, while others are seen as “lower forms” of literature? I agreed, mind you - the feeling was there of “yes, this feels better than the other” - but I couldn’t justify why.

...I think I finally understood once I started writing my first draft a few months ago. It’s my first attempt at a novel ever. And the hardest part so far, has been to make compromises between my two internal authors. You see, I get hung up on wanting to make every scene a painting. That’s what literature is, isn’t it? Being able to describe things/life/visuals in a new, beautiful and profound way? I can’t just say “he walked home”; his footsteps have to be heavy and the cobblestone must feel like tiles of past mistakes pressing against the soles of his shoes to ever remind him, or whatever. You know?

And yet that’s so entirely boring and pretentious, isn’t it? The story needs to unfold, not just endlessly stagger due to my need to heighten the art. So... what gives?

Well, I realized I hadn’t decided if this was an entertainment book or an artistic book. I think a lot of us newbies forget this part. Throwing in poetic symbolism and bath bombs of colored prose does not fare well in a book meant to appeal to a reader looking for a fun time. And vice versa, if you don’t stop to give readers something to chew on as you go through the motions, an artistic book has failed to give that crucial artistic take on life.

I think there’s a lot of focus out there on how to write for the purpose of entertainment - without labeling it as such. There are books upon books detailing how to come up with the best plot, the best characters, etc. and newbies (like me) who seek to learn the magic sauce, apply these writing mantras to our projects uncritically. And then, when we sit down to put this high action fantasy adventure on the page, we get stuck because the age old notion of literature having to be so purple, absolutely collides with the effective drive we’re taught to approach with.

You have to choose. Only once you understand what it is you intend to write, can you work to potentially merge these two energies.

What my project is concerned, I’m stuck between two peaks: if this is supposed to be an artistic piece, I need to shave off a lot of the threads of this story and reshape it so the artistic approach becomes a character rather than an unwelcome digression. But if I want this to be an exciting story to capture the reader in its intensity, I’ve got to define the story better and give them clearer shapes.

As it stands, I’m too far in to do either. I’ll have to finish it the way it is, but it’s hard to be motivated when I know I’m working on something that will be dead on arrival. HOWEVER - and this is a digression - this was a project intended only to be a teaching experience and it certainly has been! In incredibly grateful for all that I’ve learned.

Anyways, my very longwinded point, is this: once I realized these two categories, I’ve been able to consume a lot more literature as of late! I’ve been subscribed to audible for years but I’ve hardly used it until now because I always run into the issue of “I can’t listen when I’m doing X, because I’ll be too distracted to focus on the text”. For instance, I’ve put off listening to some of the classics I downloaded, because while I take the bus a lot, just the fact that I’ll have to mentally prepare to get off at the right bus stop - and then actually get off - will throw me off too much to pay attention.

Now that I’ve realized the two categories, I’ve indulged in pure entertainment fiction, and I can cook while I listen, take the bus while I listen, and more - because I know that even if I miss a word or sentence here and there, the single words aren’t supposed to hold vast meaning on their own; I will still be able to enjoy the intent of the book: the intriguing story!

I haven’t consumed this much fiction since I was a child! And I’m loving it! I’m listening to thriller after thriller and oh boy, if keeping readers this excited to find out what happens next isn’t an art, I don’t know what is!

#literature #writing #this is a love letter to literature in general tbh #wish i understood this years ago

6 notes · View notes

ashiiknees · 4 years

Text

Asks for writers by @daphnenott

poetry or prose: prose. I like poetry but every time I try pretty writing, I think I sound pretentious.

dialogue or description: dialogue.

favorite character you’ve ever written: I’m going to sound like a parent when they’re asked about their favourite kid, but I genuinely can’t choose. I love all my characters for different reasons and in different ways.

least favorite character you’ve ever written: None! Even if I’m writing a character that I want to come off as awful. I love them all.

favorite character trait to write: I love writing sarcastic bastards. I wonder why.

favorite character name you’ve come up with: Finnian- it means ‘my fair child’ and I didn’t know that at the start. It ended up being a happy accident.

biggest weakness in writing: Character descriptions. They have a face and a body I guess. I can tell you how they look, but don’t ask me to actually write it.

biggest strength in writing: Characters! I find that my characters feel like real people and I like that feeling. They may be over the place at time, but they are over the place realistically.

favorite trope: Found family and enemies to reluctant friends to lovers.

least favorite trope: “The in the closet character is homophobic” kill it in a vat of acid. Oh, and the woman in the refrigerator.

author you look up to: I try not to look up to people I don’t know personally, in an attempt to prevent myself from feeling hurt if they turn out to be an awful person, but I look up to the work of Leigh Bardugo.

favorite book/piece you’ve written: I once wrote a 7k Dick Grayson fic that I still sit and read daily.

favorite line you’ve written: I think it changes every time I write something.

fanfiction or original work: Both!

favorite genre to write in: Fantasy.

heavy description or little description: It depends on the day and what I’m describing.

first person, second person, or third person: Third person. I used to be all about first person and one day I woke up and realised I couldn’t any more.

multiple point of views or just one point of view: It depends on what the story requires. But I like multiple POVs.

multiple protagonists or just one protagonist: Multiple! I want a lot of people to root for.

favorite villain you’ve ever written: You know... I don’t think I’ve ever actually written a villain. Anti-heroes and morally grey characters, yes, but never an outright villain. (I’m going to end up writing one soon, but I haven’t yet so I can’t answer this).

longest piece (word count) you’ve ever written: A novel- 114,600 words. A one shot- 11,500 words

where do you get your inspiration from: My maladaptive daydreams :)

how to deal with writer’s block: You can check here where I go in depth, but short answer: I don’t.

writing one book at a time, or multiple at a time: One at a time. My brain is not able to handle that and I will literally short-circuit.

planning out the book before writing, or just writing it on the go: Both? I do a little planning,

picking chapter titles before writing or after: For fanfic it’s normally either before if it’s a song fic, or while I’m writing.

picking character names before writing or after: Before. If the character doesn’t have a name, I feel like I know nothing about them.

simple or complex plotlines: Plot? What’s that???? Simple plots, complex subplots.

multiple different characters or just a few: I mean... It depends.

sad or happy endings: Bittersweet endings.

rhymed poetry or free verse: I love reading both, I still can’t write any.

epilogues or prologues: Both if they serve a purpose!

#writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblogging #writers #my writing #writer asks

5 notes · View notes

yondamoegi · 4 years

Text

Quick rambly impressions of the games I tried recently

1) Code Romantic - not to be a dick, but the art is bad. I don’t like it, and I even liked early Ren’Py games made by total newbies for other total newbies because these were the first ever OELVNs. I think the animation makes the art pop out and you see all the imperfections. It’s like, very uncany valley - stuff move, but they move wrong and too limited and it feels bad. I didn’t get into the story much because I was too distracted. Like, I wanted to get right into the story, but the first scene was too long, and I hate kids, and the art was bad, and OH MY GOD I CAN’T SAVE MANUALLY. Anyway, I might try to get into it again, when I’m in better mood, but the first impression is negative.

2) Necrobarista - I didn’t like it when it started its production, and I don’t like it now. It feels so pretentious to me, they try this myserious mood and shit, and they swing back and forth between characters in weird angles speaking cryptic bull. Like, ugh! And between these swings stuff happens like, where this dude came from, he wasn’t there in the estabilishing shot? Why are we seeing his belly and crotch? Where did you get that chair? You can’t treat the game as your usual VN because you’re in a 3d space now! Speaking of 3d, these characters move, and then they freeze still, because there’s no autoforward and you gotta click to proceed. It, again, has an uncanny valley effect, I don’t like it. Also, the Barista is mean and I don’t know what mood and expression they try to do and I’m confused and I hate it.

3) Quick Hike - the controlls are whack, but you can get used to it. The worst thing is that it’s all pixely and it hurts my eyes. BUT!! Otherwise it’s a great game, a tiny open-world with a goal and obstacles you gotta overcome. I liked just looking around, seeing stuff and talking to animal-people. Then I got tired and finished the game really fast. Good game.

4) Assemble with care - when it started narrating in Russian I closed it. I. Hate. Russian. Localization! Because I think we don’t have good russian voice actors in games and cartoons. In movies, yeah, there are nice actors. But not in games and cartoons, I hate russian voices there.

5) Light Years Apart - one of the CoG games. It has a nice pacing and prose, but some things made no sense to me, like relationship status to some background characters. Like, this dude died. Was I meant to save him? Also, this other dude just appeared for a little while, was I meant to romance him? Why? He’s not important. But otherwise I enoyed it, even tho my anxiety of messing stuff up didn’t let me finish the game.

6) 180 Files The Aegis Project Demo (CoG game) - I... enjoyed the prose. But it didn’t catch my attention for very long. I’m not a big fan of spies, and I got a lot of anxiety.

7) Never Date Werewolves Demo (CoG game) - again, nice prose, good pacing, good that there are only 2 LIs so the story can be more focused. But I hate kids. I thought there would be like 2 kids, but no, there’s 6 of them. 6!!! Also they’re all brats.

#silly talks

1 note · View note

themauvesoul · 5 years

Text

You’re all welcome

Twilight is having a bit of a renaissance, so I bit the fuckin bullet and smoked the fuckin cigarette metaphor and read the whole thing so y’all didn’t have to. I took notes. NOTES. Here’s my piping hot take:

This is a bad book y’all. Like, supremely bad. It’s not even funny bad or enjoyably bad or so highly cursed it’s at least interesting. It’s just bad.

It starts off with a fuckin bible verse. This bible verse:

Which is supposed to draw comparisons between Bella and Eve, where the tree of knowledge is edward’s true nature and the snake is Edward’s supreme hotness. Stephanie is trying to imply that once Bella learns about Edwards vampirism, Bella is going to die. But like. Bella doesn’t die. She isn’t even in danger until the last 100 pages bc we all know Edwards bitchass isn’t gonna eat her. Stephanie Meyer doesn’t have the balls.

Fuckin. Everyone gives the Aro laughed ha ha ha he giggled line so much shit but like. LOOK AT THIS:

BUT I COULD SEE THE SACRIFICE IN HER EYES BEHIND THE PROMISE?? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? She literally wrote the words in the wrong order. This sentence should’ve been “but I saw the sacrifice in the promise behind her eyes”. Like that’s not a good sentence but at least ITS COMPREHENSIBLE.

And the FUCKING PLOT. It’s. Bad. Bella goes to school. Bella gets lost in Seattle. Bella stares at Edward and thinks about how pretty he is. The actually interesting/action-filled part can’t happen until Bella meets Edwards family, and that doesn’t happen until PAGE 322. OUT OF 498.

Stephanie Meyer has never met pacing, because this book fucking has none. Bella suddenly likes Edward because, uh, he’s hot? I guess? They had three conversations, each one ending with Bella storming off in a fit of rage? Bella and Edward are dating? Because they kissed? I guess? Edward watched Bella sleep and it’s totally not creepy guys, because he was SO in love with her, I guess, because they haven’t even said I love you yet, but it doesn’t matter, because now Bella is ready to DIE for Edward, isn’t that great?

Y’all. We give Bella a hard time because she doesn’t have any character. That’s a lie. She has character, and it’s pure bitchiness. She hates her new school. Okay, I guess. She hates her nice new friends. Alright? She hates the color green? And plants? And sharing a bathroom with one other person? And Edward, for like. 100 pages. She’s incredibly self absorbed and has super low self esteem, to the point that she thinks wearing a neck brace bc you hurt yourself is embarrassing. Like. Calm down. She’s also a pretentious bastard who thinks a khaki skirt is dressy. And whenever she’s not mooning after Edward or passing out or hyperventilating, she’s pissed at something. Maybe it’s the sky. Maybe it’s her fucking pale skin that she mentioned 10,000 times. This book felt like it took place in middle school instead of fucking high school, and it was solely because of Bella.

And Edward. He’s a creep. He talks like an incel. He’s constantly telling Bella how dangerous he is without showing us like. Proof. Oh and he WATCHED HER SLEEP FOR MONTHS.

Which leads us to the fundamental question: why the hell did anyone ever like this?

After deep thought and much consideration, I’ve come to a conclusion. Despite their many flaws, Edward and Bella have a rapport. They talk to each other like real human people.

Look at this. Like, ignore the shitty narration and just look at the dialogue. This is like. A normal conversation someone could maybe have. Bella made a joke. And sure, every time they talk it follows the same fucking pattern (joke, joke, Bella gets angry, Edward gets angry, Edward says something mean or serious, Bella storms off. I’m starting to think stephanie doesn’t know how to transition very well), but they still talk to each other like real people would.

You don’t normally see this in like. 99% of romances, point blank. They’re always making sweeping declarations of love, or crying because something bad happened, or fighting. There’s no BANTER. Bella and Edward, god help me, have banter.

So that’s why twilight fooled people into thinking it was a romance, but there’s another reason why people like it. Bella ain’t stupid.

I mean yes. She is. She’s so stupid. But when she notices Edwards eyes change color, she doesn’t brush it off, she gets curious. She notices when Edward moves too fast, or talks like a Jane Austen love interest. She’s observant. She discovers Edward is a vampire because she got suspicious and googled it. Edward didn’t even do anything. She didn’t have to see him eating someone or turning into a fucking bat or whatever. She was allowed to be as observant as a real person would’ve been. Maybe a little more.

And like. This book came out in 2005. It’s not like there were many other places people could go for a heroine who was allowed to be smart, or a romance that had actual banter.

Does that make this book good? No. Hell no. It was a chore to read, and I hated every minute of it. I had to read a fucking NATIVE AMERICAN VERSION OF THE NOAHS ARC STORY THAT STEPHANIE MEYER TRIED TO PASS OFF AN AN AUTHENTIC MYTH. IT WAS THE WORST THING IVE EVER SEEN. This book might’ve done two things passably well, but it still did 15672 OTHER things spectacularly badly. And it’s not like I walked into this expecting it to be super awful. I was expecting a bad storyline and surprisingly good prose, not this dumpster fire of a book. No, fire is too exciting. This is more like a pile of shit.

In conclusion why the FUCK are y’all making memes of this? IT WAS SO BORING I DONT GET IT

#twilight renaissance #i. hope youre happy.#this was awful. it was worse than trying to read some of the stuff i read for lit classes.#i took FIVE WHOLE PAGES of notes #never again

2K notes · View notes

commonalex · 4 years

Text

Sensors

youtube

So uhhh… “commonalex_”, “Common Alex”, “cOmMoN aLeX”..? It’s basically the same, pick your fave, no biggie. It’s just that commonalex really blurs the line between an alias and a username, ever since people’s legal name seem more and more out of date for their purpose. A name assigned to you like that without any option back then can’t reflect the scumbag you ended up today, and people are slowly realising this. Like, how many can identify you just by your grandparents’ name generator and how many know you as that richie_tameimpala93 fuck that posts these shit ass stories everyone skips? How many know Bruce instead of Batman? How many know this kid instead of, uhhh, y’know, his actual name (yeah it’s in the title, I know, shut up)? How did you come up with a poetry collection- you know- living and breathing in <place current year here>? Like, what the fuck? You have a point there (laughs). I know well how cringey, dumb or miserable poetry slams can be, how pretentiousness creeps behind these weird haikus your aunt posts on fb and how exhausting all these rumblings without any trace of cohesion but a bunch of enters smashed here and there (cracking up). This is why I tried to not have a single line without a purpose. All that’s left is what I want to communicate as transparent and less chatterboxy possible to prove that whatever I made has a point and a place (hilariously shitting ourselves from manic laughter, a priest preaches above us at the moment and we get dirt thrown at us due to death by funny as hell humor and such). Mmm, sounding a bit guilty. Like you were ashamed somehow to do something like this. Why’s that oh dear conventionalalexander_? It was the most natural thing to put out as a finished work. Prose and short stories have their charm, ok, but I always have to convey what I want to say behind a cAtChY enough premise that seems worthy for someone to read it; even just for the aesthetics. With poetry I cut the middleman on one hand and on the other I get closer to the art format I prefer the most, music albums. I used this approach like I was writing my “album”, either by following some beat inside my head or planning out the structure of what I intended to capture with all this. So my collection consists of 12 “tracks”; enough to trigger an effect (or some sort of a situation) without getting tiresome. I know the attention spans I have to deal with. I don’t want to give people chores. I want to chat with someone as long as it takes to take a better peek inside my head. That’s very woke, my man, congrats. Sensors really seem like just the right kind of thing to be put inside the literature textbooks of the future along with Rupi Kaur, Savannah Brown and this particular man over here. I’m not delusional, Sensors ain’t getting anywhere. Not that I didn’t want it, in some sense. I planned to print 40 copies of it and push them for free to whoever would like to pity me, but the world decided to turn into a huge distributed big brother-esque shit filled people spamming 24/7 that we all are going to die. It didn’t take me much time to understand during these circumstances that my plan wouldn’t quite fit to Sensors either way. It’s a product of the internet and self-inflicted isolation, it can’t afford to lose its home court advantage. All this crushes every hidden dream of mine about seeing my bs printed, collecting dust on somebody’s bookshelf, just to boast about how much of a totally real writer I am to poor innocent people that have the misfortune to listen to me talking. Ok look this might seem to make some sense but no one gives a flying fuck go get a actual job you moron like for fuck sake nobody asked for this why are you still talking about it go fuck yourself asshole. I'm trying so hard to not be seen as some cynical douche playing the know-it-all schtick. I really do. However, I do understand how much can a bunch of poems worth at this very moment (spoiler alert: fewer than absolute nothing). Debord wrote that forms of expression such as poetry are doomed, something I both understand and get behind. Nevertheless I ain't planning on no such thing as a "resurrection"; nostalgia is the coward's approach towards the fear of today's uncertainty. I write about now, as a person that lives in sync and deals with the shit of the present. Anything else would be a clumsy grave-digging attempt that screams "boohoo I was born in the wrong generation", even with the best of intentions. And why would anyone care about this, man? Dunno. This extremely sterile type of expression just for the sake of the expression you typically find inside boring ass museum exhibitions, bittersweet classic literature or fake deep songs always bugged me and always motivated me to find alternatives that would bypass those miserable bullshit, just so I could draw some loose gray parallels with what I was living at the moment. But alternatives got more and more scarce, and the internal burning started making its way to my throat and hand. I couldn't feel through other hosts anymore and this "oh ok then I guess I'm gonna make it myself instead" attitude didn't quite work out. I began to censor myself based on the assumption that by this way I wouldn't get lost in pretentiousness and laziness of the "others". I was literally explaining everything I wrote while I was writing it with a stupid perfectionist complex in the back of my head, just so my works would pass the test of time by not making me cringe just as much as reading sad fanfics of a person who really needs friends (and yet to this day I can't read anything I wrote without feeling like I got kicked in the balls). I've lost the way to talk about exactly what’s eating me from the inside because I'm afraid I might look too obvious and banal. I've lost the words needed to express myself and honestly I can't feel a thing around me anymore. But I'm in the process of fixing that, for real. I now realise how in vain all my efforts to connect back to the world were, until Sensors came to help me. To remember once again my sense of humanity and hug the shit out of it. To show the damage I caused upon myself by being disconnected all this time. To get a better look at what boasts my reaction, my blues, my sex drive and my creativity deep inside. This is a start of something already ending. These are the data I got this far from my new Sensors.

Online aesthetic reading over at commonsensors.github.io

Download the pdf chapbook here

1 note · View note

myidlethinkings · 5 years

Text

I Guess We’re Falling Out

My own girlfriend angel and I started writing a Crowley ran off with Antichrist, now him and Aziraphale are raising Adam as their own child story. It goes with my Gabriel headcanon that he’s not the best of sorts, but he’s not the complete villain some have made him out to be (and Raphael is his Other, headcanoned in our minds as a Tom Hardy sort. We call them the Ineffable Flowers.)

Chapter One: Well Then.

Aziraphale swung the door shut on the young, crying, woman.

Eugh, a wasted mid-morning. Every so often, every few years or so there was always one. Well. Not just women. Men too. All manners of people on the spectrum of gender. Once there had even been a couple. He supposed that was the occupational hazard of having a demon as a friend. Crowley didn’t even mean for it to happen most of the time. A conversation, a nod, brushed shoulders in an elevator, heavens, even just the sight of his face still and enigmatic behind those shades would set people to follow, would crave his attention.

And sometimes, due to their acquaintanceship, these lost souls would spill onto the doorstep of his bookshop where Aziraphale would have to tend to their bruised hearts.

Yes, I know, dear.

Oh, I quite understand.

Please, have a biscuit.

He is truly not worth it, oh, indeed.

This one, however, had actually seemed Crowley’s type, and the thought of that had unsettled him. An amateur astronomer, they had apparently met at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich one solstice. They had shared many a night underneath a blanket of stars as she had shared with him the subject of the thesis she desperately wanted to pursue one day. He had never seemed to need a telescope, the woman – Aria – had said as if using hers was just for show and he had pointed to the sky in the correct direction at every turn without even properly looking, “As if he had flung them into being himself”.

A pot of tea, three Custard Creams, and a sympathetic best to forget about him, dear and he had managed to be rid of her.

He was sorting through The Romantics (with a subconscious heavy thud to the collection of that awful cretin Byron) when the ring of the bell over the door sounded and Crowley came moseying in, saying nothing as his long-limbed figure flopped on the couch.

“Afternoon, dear,” Aziraphale greeted him.

“Izzit?”

“Mm, a little past four.”

“Ghastly hour,” the demon yawned with a jaw that seemed to unhinge in a most inhuman way, “Neither here nor there. Five at least is interesting. Three at least is respectable. Four is…A Geography teacher in a bad suit.”

“Were you napping? You could continue it here if you’d like.”

Crowley rolled on to his back after shouldering out of his blazer, discarding it to the carpet and stretched, “Wouldn’t be in your way?”

“Never,” Aziraphale moved over to the door and hung up the closed sign, then casually, as if he’d just remembered, “Oh. An Aria paid a visit earlier.”

He was hoping for a pause and a confused “Who?” – like he’d said about Beth, about James, about Caroline, Jessica, Trish, about Caitlin, about Benjamin, about Fiona and Kenneth…

But instead, there was a soft, “..Oh.” which very definitely resounded with recognition and even a note of sadness.

“I told her to forget about you of course…Was I wrong to do so?”

He turned and Crowley’s expression was hidden behind his sunglasses. Aziraphale moved to sit in the seat opposite him, his voice a little tight, “Oh Crowley, I am sorry if I did wrong.”

“Hmm?” Crowley then gestured dismissively, “No, of course, you didn’t, Aziraphale. You can’t, remember?”

Aziraphale tutted at the gentle teasing.

“Thought I recognised her is all.”

A simple statement, but Aziraphale’s face softened. Ah. This again. The elusive Nannerl. Crowley convinced that every so often souls would be weaved back into the history of humanity. A child prodigy who had been taken from royal court to court alongside her brother, and while he had grown to fill the century with musical notes long remembered, she had been relegated to a mere footnote in history. Crowley had been searching for her ever since.

“Not her then?”

Crowley made a negating sound, “Thought for certain… with the name this time that the universe was trying to be funny… But it’s still just a big cockup of a lark… Anyway, she’ll make her own mark, Aziraphale. She’ll be one of the primary colours of this century.”

Aziraphale smiled slightly. He made the mistake of Crowley noticing, as he rolled his eyes and moved to his side, his back to the angel, “Oh don’t start.”

The smile deepened.

“I said stop it. Can’t nap when you’re smiling.”

Aziraphale went back to his books, but the smile remained. As the hours wiled away and the light began to dim, the angel’s eyes began to become bleary. He had never taken to Crowley’s habit of sleeping, but time began to drift as he began to pass in a meditative state.

The angel dreamed.

Or the closest to what dreams were in this half awake, half trance state.

The flitter flutter of memories. Senses. Flashes of colour. Half murmured conversations.

The feel of rain. It had been a nice day.

He came back with a hand on his shoulder.

A soft, “Aziraphale.”

For a moment he was caught between two worlds and his voice was half slurred as he asked, “Do you still have it?”

“Have it?”

Vague thoughts of rats scurrying off, of dancing feet, ebb away to nothing.

He was still sitting at his desk with Keats open before him, the question hanging in the air and fading to irrelevance now he’d been pulled back to reality.

“Oh, Crowley, nothing. I fear I drifted.”

Bright Star laid open to the world that existed for an angel and a demon in a bookshop. Aziraphale’s thoughts were back on the woman and Crowley had moved him to draw upon an old conversation with an old acquaintance that had inspired the poem… Aziraphale noticed the way Crowley’s eyes scanned the words.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

With a flourished and speckled ink accompanying the poem “For you and Yours, Mr Fell. Thank you again for your patronage.”

He slammed the book shut and for some reason blushed.

“I didn’t know you met Keats,” there was a dismissive sniff in Crowley’s words at the pretentious prose that rankled the angel.

Aziraphale was up, and slotted the book back in an almost defensive motion, “Was probably when you were having one of your sulks.”

Crowley balked, “I– wh– My sulks- I do not- I-”

The confusion from the demon at the barb stung Aziraphale’s conscience and he rubbed his temple, “I’m sorry, Crowley. My mind is just rather… I’ve been at it too long,” he gestured at the books, “Cataloguing them with a new system, and…” he offered an apologetic smile.

“New system, I’m impressed,” Crowley pulled a face but then gave his own smile, “No need to apologise. The ire was earned. After all,” He raised his hands in a dramatic shrug, “What would your plebeian demon know of literary matters?”

The self-deprecating jest only managed to make Aziraphale sad in a way he couldn’t express. He knew things abundantly. He had a wealth of knowledge, the very universe within him. He had always sought out the thinkers of history. He'd…He’d gifted humanity knowledge! Aziraphale shied away from that thought, aware that it dangerously bordered on some sort of sacrilege. But still. It had been hard not to think of such things when Aziraphale had looked upon a new discovery, a new philosophy, had walked through the great museums of the world, ever-evolving.

Aziraphale’s voice was prim in response as he stood from his desk, “Plenty. Now. Am I to assume you were going to suggest we should partake in some food?” The rest of the books could wait, and he desperately wanted to steer their conversation towards lighter subjects. Towards things that didn’t involve souls Crowley would most likely never see again, or at least for a very, very long time. Towards things that they could discuss more easily. Topics that Aziraphale didn’t feel so rotten because they made him behave most unangelic.

Crowley grinned, “And some alcohol to water it down. You know me so well.”

Aziraphale moved over and picked up Crowley’s blazer he had left on the carpet and helped him back into it, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should to straighten the shoulders, “Any ideas?”

“Ohhh…” Crowley lazily drawled, the sort of sound Aziraphale knew as the demon having a lot on his mind but little to say, “Was thinking we could just go for a wander and see what’s out there to tempt us?”

Aziraphale gave him a look, but stayed his thoughts on the matter of Crowley obviously goading him to say something, and the two left the bookshop without another word.

They wandered down the street. It was getting late and under the cover of night, Aziraphale felt both safe and a little emboldened. He told himself he missed the easy affection of olden days, where men in suits and top hats could wrap their arm around a comrade as they enjoyed a stroll and nothing was thought of it, and it took a swallow and three heartbeats before he nudged closer and linked his arm through Crowley’s.

The demon said nothing. No motion or change in his step or even a look acknowledging Zira’s sudden need for contact. And that made it all the worse. He should be saying something. Turning to Aziraphale, raising a brow, a “well, that’s new”, but instead they just continued walking.

Well, he couldn’t take his arm back now… Couldn’t ignore the hammering of his heart either. The darn human thing was thumping faster than a hummingbird’s wings and Aziraphale was trying his hardest to keep his steps even. He didn’t want to pull away at this point even if it meant he could breathe easily again, and Crowley really didn’t seem to mind. Or Aziraphale hoped. Physical contact between the two had never been their thing. They’d always walked and sat by one another, a safe distance between them to any onlookers. Close enough that it could be seen that they were at the least companions, but far enough that no one would think more on the matter of the two.

The thought that perhaps Crowley wasn’t so unused to this crossed his mind. Did the humans he’d been around lock arms in such a way? Had they done more? Had they held his hand as they looked up at the night sky with him?

“You’ve never taken me stargazing.”

It spilled out without him realising it and he was mortified at the accompanying hint of petulance in the words too.

…But it was true.

The most he had ever gotten out of him was in some of their run-ins happening at night. He would notice how Crowley would usually be looking up at the sky, slitted eyes staring at the marvel of it.

And just once… once Crowley had noted, “Jupiter is especially bright tonight.”

“Jupiter?”

“There.” He pointed to the distant planet, Aziraphale followed his line of sight…

“Oh. Oh, it is… That’s beautiful.” He murmured in awe. Her wonders truly did have no bounds to the glorious things they were able to see in their shared time on earth.

“Mmm.” Crowley hummed, eyes still focused above, “Lot of beautiful things up there.”

There was a pause as they continued to gaze heavenward. Aziraphale licked his lips, “I’m afraid I don’t know as much of galaxies and planets as I could. Or should, rather.” So many tasks needed him to guide humans by stars, he really ought to know them better.

“That’s because your head is stuffed with what they can do with flour and honey,” Crowley had dryly replied, head tilting down finally to look at the angel, his face blank save the curl of his lip as he hissed, “Sssso, what’s the target for the blessing next week?”

And that was all he said of the matter. He’d been a bit in one of his moods, and Aziraphale never pushed further to hear more from the demon.

He should have pushed…

“Ah,” Crowley brought him back to Soho, “That’s what’s gotten you in a mood.”

“Me, in a mood? I’m never in moods!”

Crowley let out a soft snort, “Aziraphale, you’ve never asked.”

As if it should be so simple, Aziraphale thought with his own annoyed retort building in his mind. He took a breath to respond when a flash of gold and the embers of a held cigarette snared his gaze, catching him off guard, and he turned suddenly fearful, but the figure was gone and… he must have mistaken the sight. Nerves high given the dangerous subject he was dancing on. He was really only good at the Gavotte and this was on the edge of a flaming sword he no longer possessed. He turned back to Crowley who was giving him a puzzled look at his sudden jerking. Aziraphale shook his head and cleared his throat. He gave up on the biting remark he had lost too in his worry, instead settling for gentle.

“Do I need to?“ Should I have ever had to?

The demon was quiet as he regarded him. Sometimes he was so damned unreadable to the angel, which was a stark contrast to his usual melodramatic flair. It made Aziraphale nervous. And he wondered if Crowley was doing it intentionally.

He desperately needed to fill in the silence and he spilled out, "Do you love her?”

Stop it.

“…Who?”

“The Mozart woman.”

He knew it was a ridiculous question before he’d even asked it. And he knew it unfair to ask. He knew the question was immaterial. But his hands were trembling and something was building up inside of him and he couldn’t explain what so he focused on anything.

Crowley tilted his head and the words came out bitterly, “Demons can’t love, remember? That was pulled from us in our Unnaming. Isn’t that what your holy brethren and sistren think?”

The angel’s breath hitched, “That’s not true. I mean. They do– but they’re wrong… Oh, my dear, forgive me. I’m all out of sorts.” He brought his other hand to his face. Why was he so caught in tormenting them both with this line of questioning? Why was he ruining what should be another nice evening of new food and wine and dialogue on the newest inventions by humans, or… or ending at his bookshop as many a night did, a good bottle and his record player going as they talked about various philosophies and what did 42 have to do with anything, anyway?

Crowley dislodged his arm and stepped away from Aziraphale to look vaguely at a display menu outside of a restaurant. Aziraphale hoped the conversation was done, though he mourned the loss of the arm twined with his own. He stepped forward himself sheepishly and looked in the window, absently remarking, “Oh, this place does those crème brûlée cupcakes. Shall we try here tonight?”

Crowley said nothing.

“…My dear?” Aziraphale prodded.

“What is it that you want, angel?” Crowley’s voice wasn’t angry, but it held an overwhelming distance. Something so far and away from the angel that he didn’t like it. Something the angel couldn’t place but it was so detached from him that he felt he might even understand the loss of Her. “What do you want of me?”

Aziraphale went still. He opened his mouth at first to try to answer that gnocchi might be nice but his voice fell silent. He had a feeling of a not so distant ringing in his ears that he was being cruel.

Crowley continued, circling around him, “This is your speed. What you wanted. No faster.” He stopped when he’d completed his round around the angel, looking back to the window, “I can’t do anything more than this. I’ve hit the bloody parking brake.”

Aziraphale swallowed. He knew. Heavens he knew this was the limit he’d set. He’d even allowed himself to forget there ever was a set tempo. That nothing had shifted since the flask of holy water… Since the saved books… Since a hurled “fraternising.”

He slowly lifted his hand and placed it on the back of Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley turned to him, his darkly embered hair glowing under the halo of a streetlight.

Aziraphale stammered, “I… I never… said a full stop, my dear.”

In one breath Crowley leaned towards Aziraphale and he stepped back involuntarily, bumping into the brick behind him. Crowley was leaning in, his arm resting above’s Aziraphale’s head, and seeing what was about to happen the angel panicked. He placed a firm, flat palm to Crowley’s chest, halting him. His eyes flickered from his friend’s lips to the confused eyes, and with all of the regret of his existence in his words, he whispered, “I… But I am sorry. We can’t.”

They couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never. If they were caught. If their sides were…

If he ever let himself openly love Crowley…

Crowley blinked a moment at the hand that had stopped him, his expression playing out from one of dumbfounded shock, to realization, to a disgusted sneer, and he moved back, the dark glow of his eyes visible behind his shades. His sclera was missing entirely as he looked with some emotion that made Zira feel sick. The moment was gone, brushed away in a single moment of fear. But Aziraphale had left a new wound.

Betrayal rang out in Aziraphale’s mind. Judas wasn’t so cruel.

Crowley slouched back away from Aziraphale’s touch, as cool and casual as he could, despite the burning he felt at the cloth of his shirt. The angel’s touch was always so warm. He propped a leg against the brick of the restaurant, arms crossed, his face now neutral, giving away none of the intent that had just been there. Then, as if discussing the weather he clicked his tongue, looked away towards the crowds passing by, gaze lingering on one innocent couple wrapped up in each other, “…I’m actually not hungry. I think I’m gonna leave, angel.”

There was an undertone of a certain truth in those words but Aziraphale didn’t want to fathom what they meant.

He kept his voice light, “…Alright, dear. Monet exhibit on Sunday?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Crowley raked his fingers through his hair, “-z'it Monet or Manet again?”

“Most definitely Monet.”

“Right,” the lazy tone again, “You like the pastels,” he then made a bit of a sound indicating a farewell and sauntered off down the street, out of the light and into the shadows.

Aziraphale knew he was a bastard.

Three years. It wasn’t for three years until the demon appeared again. Standing there one late evening in his bookshop, clinging to a basket, with a sob in his throat and a shiver in his words.

“Angel,” he said, “I’ve done something really stupid.”

The story so far can be found on our AO3 (WHICH TOOK DAYS FOR US TO GET AN INVITATION, THE HECK, BACK IN OUR DAY IT WAS FF AND YOU SIGNED UP, THAT WAS IT).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20399233/chapters/48385201

2 notes · View notes

rayliur · 5 years

Text

Little Fires Everywhere; Everything I Never Told You

“To say that Celeste Ng’s novels have changed my life is an understatement; her works have saved my life.”

by Ray Liu

Follow me on Twitter for more: https://twitter.com/rayliur

No, I’m not being dramatic. They really did.

I first discovered Miss Celeste Ng through Twitter. I believe one of my friends had retweeted her and her tweet made it to my feed. At the time, I wasn’t an avid reader; I barely picked up a book (and this was in 2016). Fast-forward three years, Ng had inspired me--through her two amazing novels--to write my own novel. But my novel isn’t the focus of this blog post.

See, my whole life as an Asian American was atypically strange. I thought it was just me, an individual who didn’t know how to navigate through life. Somewhere inside me longed to see someone--a successful someone--who represented me in this country. I was born in Manhattan, lived in Brooklyn throughout my childhood and early adulthood, and only recently moved to Queens. But I was born here. In America.

But I never read a single book in all my twelve years of school that was written by an Asian American. And as a Chinese-American boy in his teens, I thought that I could never write a book or even be part of the English/literary realm--because no one would want to listen to my stories. Because I am Chinese.

Of course, after high school, and during my journey of self-discovery, I came across works like Joy Luck Club ... that was it. So scratch off that s after “work.” Just work. I was young at the time, so that was not a book I paid attention to or spent time trying to read it or understand it.

There just wasn’t enough authors who looked like me or understood stories like mine.

Over the years, I’ve dealt with issues--personal issues. And they all stemmed from my oddly dysfunctional family. I’ve tried so many ways to express my feelings toward them and about them, but none of them worked. At least not to the extent I thought they would. And I couldn’t just tell them how I felt at the time because, in Chinese households, you just don’t talk about feelings. In fact, therapy is taboo. I screamed inside every day and night--they just didn’t understand what I was going through; that my identity here in this country felt diminished, on the brink of disappearing.

To say that I never thought about death is a lie.

Then I came across Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng.

“Ng,” I thought. “Interesting. An Asian-American author. Wow.”

It was at the Amazon Bookstore on 34th that I picked up the book. I was so excited. I had heard of Celeste Ng on Twitter, but never put two and two together until I googled her on my phone that day at the bookstore, and sure enough her bio popped up, including her Twitter page which I had already followed. I read the back cover. “Death!” I was immediately hooked.

The book opens with Lydia, who is dead. It’s not even a spoiler, because the whole story surrounds this incident--how Lydia’s family deals with her death and how her death reveals all the secrets that, in time, consume the family until everything falls apart. The title is elegantly designed. The choice of “I” instead of “She” or “They” had me thinking about the overarching frame of the novel. “I” applies to every character--not just one. Soon, I was swept into the seventies, where Ng takes me through a conservative society that frowned upon interracial couples, marriages, and relationships.

The first scene in this novel that stood out to me--made me rage and cry in joy--is the pool scene where Nathan (the oldest son) is bullied by white kids in a game of Marco Polo. “Chink can’t find China,” says one of the white kids at the pool (Ng 90). Ng unapologetically exposes racism in her novel by using Nathan as a target for these bleach-blond, ignorant white kids. I was Nathan. I had been in his shoes and reading this scene made me cry--not because it triggered horrific memories, but because I’ve finally found an author who gets it--who isn’t afraid to tell the whole truth, raw and with zero sugar coating.

Then there was the theme of death and suicide. Just to be clear, I’ve only thought about death--never did I ever try to harm myself in any way. Just like Lydia. SPOILER ALERT! Skip this paragraph if you haven’t read this book and are planning to read it in the near future. Lydia hates her life; she was always the quiet girl who got good grades (the stereotypical Asian) simply because she was afraid her mother would run away from her family, again. Of course, Lydia had nothing to do with Marilyn leaving. Needless to say, Lydia’s parents really fucked her up, mentally. Relatable? Fuck yes! Reading proses and passages from Lydia’s POV felt so real to me, like I had somehow channeled myself into her head. At the end, when she decides to challenge herself--rowing herself out to the middle of the lake--by swimming back ashore, she gave me hope. That, shit happens but you just have to choose to live and know that things will get better. Lydia dies of course, because she couldn’t swim and thinking you can swim is very different from knowing you can swim.

Not only does Ng break stereotypes in this novel, she bends the old narrative of Chinese Americans in the U.S. and points the fingers back at trashy white folks--all the while doing it with grace and perfection.

Little Fires Everywhere, however, had little takes on the Asian narrative. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t make a powerful statement through the lens of Asian Americans and racism toward Asian Americans. I’ll get to that very soon. This novel opens up with the Richardsons’ house burning down. And yes, this story focuses on a (presumably) white family--very privileged and very perfect in white standards. It takes place in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a town that was built on order and strict city-community planning. The streets are always clean and the color of houses all share one Home Depot swatch palette. Then comes the wild card character Mia Warren with her young daughter Pearl. Ng doesn’t specify Mia and Pearl’s race or ethnicity--but photos of the cast had been released by Hulu (due to the novel being picked up as an original series on the platform--congrats, Celeste!)--and I believe Kerry Washington is going to play Mia. With that little tidbit in my head, I read through the novel picturing Mia Warren as a black woman with a mixed-race daughter. It’s a great dynamic, actually. Mia inadvertently becomes the mirror that reflects all of Mrs. Richardson’s (and her family’s) pretentiousness and overly saturated life. That’s the synopsis.

SPOILER ALERT (again)! Skip this paragraph if you wish to read this book in the near future. Like I said earlier, there’s an Asian-American component to this novel. While drama ensues between the Richardsons and the Warrens, a subplot underlines the novel. Bebe Chow, a Chinese woman from Hong Kong (I believe it was HK), abandons her few-month-old child May Ling in front of a fire station. The city claims the orphan and hands her over to the McCulloughs, who could not have children because of infertility. Bebe puts her life back together again and decides she wants May Ling back--who now goes by Mirabelle, a white name given to her by a white family. Toward the end of the novel, a large chunk of it is dedicated to the court case that decided May Ling’s fate: to go with the McCulloughs or be returned to her biological mother. During that legal battle, Ed Lim comes in (Bebe’s attorney). Ed Lim is my favorite character, so my review here is clearly a little biased. Ng creates Ed Lim to be someone who breaks the stereotype of Asian men. Ed Lim is “six feet” tall, “lean and rangy” (Ng 258). Wow. Ng is a literary god. As Bebe’s attorney, Ed’s job is to win the case of course. He questions Mrs. McCullough regarding how she plans to raise a Chinese baby girl. McCullough replies that she would learn Chinese herself: but she doesn’t even know the difference between the variety of Chinese dialects (Shanghainese, Toisan, Mandarin, just to name a few). Then, McCullough shoots herself in the foot by telling him that she buys Mirabelle a lot of toys--namely a teddy bear. Oh, no--not just any bear. Because Mirabelle is Chinese, McCullough got her Chinese baby a fucking panda bear. I laughed so hard at this point. Ng is a genius. But what’s most important and to be taken seriously in this scene is when Ed Lim asks if Mirabelle has any dolls, you know, because most girls in the nineties had wanted to play with Barbie dolls. McCullough, confident and chest-puffed, answers him. “We buy her dolls ... one of them closes her eyes when you lay her down...” (Ng 261). This was when I knew exactly where Ng is going with this: the eyes. Ed Lim asks McCullough what the color of that doll’s eyes is and she says, “Blue” (Ng 261). He proceeds to lecture her, telling her that the Barbie company does not manufacture Chinese or Asian dolls. There is no doll that represents May Ling. Ah, America. Fucking up children of color since 1776. And Mirabelle would lose touch with her heritage as she grows older. A young impressionable girl without any understanding (real understanding) of her identity is dangerous. Just when I thought Ng was planning on drilling through her novel with the focus on a white and black family, she crashes through the fabric of her story with THIS! Only a true legend and storytelling extraordinaire can do things like this.

In conclusion, Celeste Ng is my hero. Her powerful proses articulate the issues of racism and cultural stereotypes in America, and the [inner] human psyche--all through the telling of interpersonal and small-scale stories--that majorly impacts the world we live in.

I hope you all get a chance to read both of her books. I would definitely recommend starting with Everything I Never Told You. I love her writing style in both novels. The debut novel interchanges between past- and present-tenses, which is refreshing. And Little Fires Everywhere is written in all past-tense, which helps the reader focus more on the story.

So like I said. These books saved my life. Ng gave me relatable characters that I absolutely cannot find elsewhere and plots that had me white-knuckle through both books. I truly hope that schools across the country add at least one of her works into their curriculum because it is THAT IMPORTANT.

Below is an excerpt from Little Fires that I tweeted earlier. It’s pretty self-explanatory. It entirely captured my current situation with my familial issues. And thank you Penguin Books for retweeting it!

(p. 294, 2019 ed.)

(From Twitter)

Thank you, Celeste! Thank you, Penguin, for picking up her works to publish.

Thank you for reading my thoughts on these two works.

Now, off I go, back to writing my own novel.

Ray

#celeste ng #little fires everywhere #everything i never told you #penguin books #asian american #chinese american

2 notes · View notes