Ever-fixed mark (Part 1)

Friday, October 20th, 2017 09:02 am
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan

Raxdell House was positively humming with excited anticipation.

Hannah Clorinda Roberts looked beyond the flowers she was arranging in a vase on the windowsill, out of the window. It was a lovely late spring day. Her father and her brother Julius were about the gardens – as if anything needed doing to improve upon their perfection.

She stepped back, looked at the flowers, and stepped forward again to make a slight adjustment to one of the lilies.

There were footsteps coming down the stairs.

Why, Hannah, do you have fresh flowers at every landing? Excellent fine they are too.

Gervase Reveley, Viscount Raxdell, her parent’s employer, smiled down at her. You must be glad at Flora’s return, he said.

Hannah bobbed and smiled and nodded, although she was not sure – was she glad? Flora had been away so very many months, must have had so many experiences during her Grand Tour: could it be the same between them? Flora had wanted Hannah to accompany her, but there had been – difficulties.

Lord Raxdell proceeded down the next flight, still an athletic figure although his dark hair was now lightly frosted, as Hannah watched him go.

She knew how very – out of the common – her situation was. The child of servants, even were they not merely upper servants, but the renowned cook Seraphine and the greatly esteemed horticulturalist Elisha Roberts. A sufficient degree of African ancestry to be counted, she reckoned, as quadroon and the same proportion of less-marked French ancestry. Yet her place in this household – more like some dependent relative held in great affection. Educated alongside the Ferraby children, the dear companion of their beloved cherished youngest, Flora.

Hannah made a final scrutiny of the flowers, shrugged, and went to the place that would always calm and soothe her spirits, the library. She did not need to take out a book and read: just being there made her feel – in the right place. Which was, she thought, somewhat incongruous. And yet, it was her place. It was the place where she undertook the useful task of making sure the books were where they were supposed to be, of keeping the volumes of the catalogue up to date: and where she had learnt the skills of finding things out, where to look things up, and writing things down.

Mr MacDonald was already there: he looked up, his habitually severe expression softening at the sight of her. Hannah – you look quite the calmest creature in this house today.

She sighed. 'Tis a delusion, she said. I am as agitated as any, that is why I come here to address myself to work.

I am in much the same state, he confessed, and also find it answers to be out from underfoot, while there is a deal of domestic activity in train.

Indeed there is, as if all was not already in order. But I daresay 'tis even worse at Lady Bexbury’s own house.

Oh, indubitably. Anyone would suppose she was one of those sticklers that will most immediate note the one speck of dust or the single spot that is not properly polished.

Hannah frowned. Is it not – not for her, or rather, 'tis done not because she would in the least complain but to provide the appropriate setting? (She had spent quite a lot of time in the past months considering over the phenomenon that was Lady Bexbury and her effect upon her intimates and her wider circles.)

Mr MacDonald broke into one of his rare and delightful grins and said, Sure you hit it off! We all undertake things to express our welcome, in our own particular fashion – for my part, I have a deal of books and journals that I have kept by for her, Gervase – His Lordship – has made sure that that Melusine has been given exercize as well as being well-groomed, Mrs Ferraby makes sure all is swept and garnished, your mother prepares her favourite dishes, your father and Julius ensure the gardens look their best – how else may all show how very pleased they are to have her back?

But, he said, I daresay your own particular feeling is for Flora’s return?

She sat down, and clasped her hands before her upon the library table, and swallowed against the lump in her throat. I daresay, she said at length, she will have changed.

There was a moment’s silence. And have you yourself stayed entire the same? asked Mr MacDonald.

Oh, said Hannah. Of course she had changed. Just because she had stayed in the same place did not mean she had remained frozen as Flora had left her. There had been these hours in the library, the conversations and arguments – she had been acquiring an education that, did she consider upon the matter, and think of what she had been told of Oxford and Cambridge, was very likely superior to that acquired by many that could write BA after their names.

He cleared his throat, removed and polished his spectacles, replaced them, and said, I shall greatly miss our convocations – sure you have an excellent mind and the finest apprehension.

Hannah felt tears come to her eyes. Why, she said, must they cease? There is still so much I have to learn.

'Tis the like case with all: happy are those that know it. Sure I do not think you will give up study – but you and Flora were ever the inseparables. It must make some difference.

Hannah wrinkled her nose. O, Flora will be going about in Society, and being presented, and there will be suitors, I doubt not, both for her own merits and as a daughter of a wealthy and influential family. 'Tis a world where I may not follow her. I am sure I shall still have many hours to give to the library. But mayhap I should be thinking about finding a place - though indeed I am educated beyond my station. Oh, I daresay I might go out as a governess, though there must be few families would want one of my dark complexion –

Are there not, said Mr MacDonald, families of a like heritage that have gone prosper in the world and would desire educate their daughters to their own new station –

Oh, belike! Yet I do not feel in myself any desire to be a governess – sure one hears it may be a hard and miserable life, I confide that few are in that happy condition Mrs Lowndes enjoyed, but also I do not have that paedogogic inclination that she manifests.

Have you never thought that you might earn a living by your pen?

What!

Have you not already published articles and criticism in The Intelligencer? I assure you, Mr Lowndes does not make space in his pages out of charity.

Oh, but –

He smiled and said, For if our virtues did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike, as if we had them not.

I mind, said Hannah, that the gentleman to whom that exhortation was expressed showed one of very corrupted virtue.

Does not mean that the sentiment itself is wrong.

Well, said Hannah at length, I will think on’t. For sure I would rather teach through words in print than before a classroom.

Entire my own sentiment!

But indeed, she went on, there is a deal of different 'twixt placing an occasional piece in The Intelligencer, and earning a living by one’s pen.

Mr MacDonald looked thoughtful. I daresay you will have heard of that very enlightened course of action that Mr – I mean, Sir Josiah, as we must now style him – undertook, concerning settling an allowance on his daughters as well as his sons, rather than laying the money by to swell some husband’s purse –

Even, said Hannah with a little quirk of her lips, did Bess and Meg go marry almost precipitate!

Even so, they were not obliged to do so, and in their matrimonial ventures, were able to follow their hearts. But what I come at, and mayhap 'tis entire interfering of me, is that besides the very fine places your parents have here, they have that interest in the factory that makes pickles and preserves from Seraphine and Euphemia’s receipts, were able send Julius about that Grand Tour with his friends, pay the premium to apprentice Joseph to an apothecary, I apprehend that there is some likelihood that Daniel will be educated for the ministry –

Hannah wrinkled her nose. May be just some boyish notion, she said.

- why should they not provide you with a competence that might support you while you went build up a connexion for your writing? I am sure they would do the like were you a boy.

But I am not a boy.

(She doubted that her brothers received anything like the exhortations and warnings about beguilement that her mother had addressed to her, ever since she came to womanhood. She was suddenly not to go help Josh Ferraby in his menagerie, must not do this or that. It was exceeding tiresome, and she had supposed that some fear of foreign seducers lay behind Seraphine’s determined refusal of Flora’s pleas to Hannah to accompany her upon her Grand Tour.)

She could see that Mr MacDonald was about to begin perorate upon the topic of the inequitable treatment of women, but at that moment one of the footmen entered to say, Lady Bexbury and Miss Ferraby’s carriage just comes in to the stableyard.

Oh! cried Hannah, I daresay all are drawn up ready to greet 'em; let us go at once.

Indeed let us go most expeditious.

All were already greeting the arrivals as they emerged from the carriage: Flora embracing her parents, followed by Lady Bexbury embracing Lady Ferraby and shaking hands with Sir Josiah, taking both of His Lordship’s hands and smiling up into his face.

As Flora moved to make her curtesy to His Lordship, and then to embrace Mrs Lowndes, she was looking around her with a little frown.

O, she cried, picking her skirts and quite running across the yard, Hannah, Hannah, o, I have missed you so, I thought mayhap you were away.

Merely lingering in the library, said Hannah, feeling her spectacles misting. Oh, Flora, you are looking exceeding well.

Sure I am glad to hear it, for we had quite the horridest Channel crossing.

And so fine dressed!

Why, am I in company with Lady Bexbury, do not wish to look like a poor relation or hired companion. But, o, Hannah, I have such a deal to tell you.

What, more than was in those fat letters you sent me?

Indeed there were matters I did not wish to put into letters, but to tell you to your face.

Hannah looked at Flora. She minded that Julius had remarked that when he and his friends had run into Lady Bexbury and Flora upon their travels, Lord Sallington had seemed considerable taken with Flora. Was a fine match in prospect, with the likelihood of some day being a Duchess?

Flora looked around. Lady Ferraby was already beginning to urge them indoors where a collation had been laid. Why, must go do the dutiful first, but might we not foregather in the old secret place upon the roof, later?

Hannah nodded. So, whatever it was, was not yet something that Flora wished to announce publicly.

(no subject)

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 09:22 pm
sholio: sun on winter trees (Default)
[personal profile] sholio
The Stranger Things phone game is too addictive for my own good. Send help.

... Well, it's semi-addictive. I tend to play in burst of 30 minutes or so because the gameplay is slightly repetitive and I get tired of it quickly, but no more so that, say, the Lego games - I just get bored with punching things to collect stuff. I played for a couple hours today because after a day or two of beating my head against one of the puzzles, I managed to figure out the solution without having to look up any cheats, and this got me into a whole new dungeon and I didn't want to stop.

It's an adorable game, though. It's got retro 80s-style graphics and puzzles that are just hard enough to be challenging without being flat-out impossible. I've had to look up a cheat to get through one level so far, and I also wish I'd figured out in the beginning that it's very useful to do a bunch of the side quests before you try to fight through too many of the dungeons because you level up on health and carry slots, so it makes the dungeons slightly easier and less frustrating when you aren't dying all the time.

I don't play very many games and I'm having a blast with this one, so take that for whatever it's worth.

happy music

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 11:32 pm
yhlee: Texas bluebonnet (text: same). (TX bluebonnet (photo: snc2006 on sxc.hu))
[personal profile] yhlee
Because today has been a Day for uninteresting reasons, I present to you a song that makes me happy: Anne Murray's "I Just Fall in Love Again" [Youtube].

(I'm Texan. I grew up on country, okay? ^_^)

Feel free to link to Youtube versions of songs that make you happy! I expect yours are less mushy than mine. ^_^

Shiny things to check out!

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 11:13 pm
lynndyre: Fennec fox smile (Default)
[personal profile] lynndyre
[community profile] weissvsaiyuki 20th Anniversary battle! So much stuff appearing all the time, and wow, I missed these fandoms more than I realised. 58 and Crawford/Schuldig and more! ♥

[community profile] acdholmesfest is also currently posting! (I am failing at catching up, but I hope to.)

Innumerable Stars is live! Everything Tolkien-- I got a lovely bit of Aragorn&Elrond! Some other gems: This one on Cirdan, this one on Boromir's arrival in Rivendell.

And finally! If a Thranduil ship exists, I'm pretty sure Evandar can convince me of it. XD Gorgeous Legolas/Thranduil h/c (also on AO3). Sensory detail and touch and breath. ♥

silence, silence everywhere, and not a soul to speak

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 11:02 pm
wanderlustlover: (Inconvenient Truths - imaginaryalice34)
[personal profile] wanderlustlover
I think about starting this up, taking this up, having taken it up again, a lot the last few days. It's the go-to topic in my head that is not King Lear Act I, AP Multiple Choice Strategies, or Tropes & Schemes Poetry. I've turned over and over in my head this idea I've been trying to put into words, about the glaring hole of silence in my world, in my heart, in my head.

I think about talking about feeling relieved every time I've hit send, like this iota footprint of space has cleared out from my clogged to choking mind, never quite sure how to put it into words. My last post was the beginning of my 2017 version for 31 Days of Blogging (which I've actually been working on since this morning/last night, making sure all the links were updated right, and picking pictures during work today on the side), and I thought I'd glance at my number II from 2013.

Starting out, my options, were amusing, but then I hit twelve and felt my heart stutter.
12. I write a lot. A lot. And it's true that maybe there is only one person who sees it that on a daily basis, whether that's in a game or it's in iMessage. But it's there, and I really only massively worry about how my internal barometer is doing when I stop being able to see where the massive daily/weekly outpouring of my words is.
I used to talk about this a lot. The idea words (words, words) defined where my internal barometer truly was, and you could tell something was wrong if I was quiet and not writing. It wasn't ever not true. A number of words happening in my week. Anywhere. Everywhere. I'm not writing a lot anywhere. Discourse is at a minimum. There are band-aids, but not tributaries.

The idea this silence shapes the edges of my emptiness feels suddenly deafening tonight, in these words from a me who was only saying them four years ago, four very different years ago, especially when I think about the fact 90% of the noise in my weeks, currently, is children, who need me as a teacher and don't know me at all as a singular person...

I'm not entirely willing, or wanting, to stare at the whole of this dark shape in the eyes yet. But at least I can recognize its name in the mouth of my younger self, when I feel where the sore beat of my heart thumps furiously for a moment in the clear connection to what was once far more of itself.

269 Cats

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 10:47 pm
pumpkinkingmod: (pic#8274963)
[personal profile] pumpkinkingmod posting in [community profile] trickortreatex
269 images of cats will be added to the collection if every participant gets two gifts before author/artist reveals. If you would like to contribute cat images then you can email them to me at halloweenmod@gmail.com and include if you would like to be credited in the notes and if so, under what name.

Edit: Honorary Cats (aka all other pets) are welcome as well.

31 Days of Blogging: I - Introduction and a Picture

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 09:20 pm
wanderlustlover: (Poetry: I Contain Multitudes - Ruuger)
[personal profile] wanderlustlover
Day I - Introduction and recent photo

Hi, I'm Amanda, called Amanda, who is Amare, and is recognized sort of twitter/Tumblr/fanfic/etc internet over as Wanderlustlover. I'm really good at being willing to answer any question someone poses me about myself, or take part in any discussion volleyed over in my direction, but my introduction never seems to run short, because I never seem to consider the world in concision.

My first introduction people find is the one you'll find on my journal profile;

I am ink stains and music notes; reader, writer, singer, and muse. Loves the smell of old books; entertain that which aspires to a library. Cooks a soulful yuletide bread, a mean lobster and amazing ramen mix. I am worn pages and spinning atoms; philosopher, student, and rule breaker. I adore teachers, books, classes, and homework. This is my bliss. Respect it. Challenge it. Please.

I am snowdrops in spring; horseback riding, cheerleader, girl scout turned comic manager and college salesman, seventeen-year soprano turned writer and teacher. Champions those who would challenge fear to seek their hearts and dreams content, ever-changing daily. Thinks smoking should be banned, parents taught how to raise children, and children left alone to dream.

I am silent wish, whispered prayer; dragon-protected, water-touched, moon-child, unconditional love: Amare. Four things truest- dragons, blue, three and love. I am dried leaves and exotic scents; eclectic herbologist and oiliest, sometimes Diana dedicated, Pagan. Thinks God's a man, think God's a woman; think it's silly we're trying to assign trivial things like names and genders to the great creative force.

I am Taurus with Pisces rising and five houses in Sagittarius. I am spontaneous movement and grounded stability. I am the arrow that is going. My mind is always seeking, ten thousand things in ten thousand directions. My feet, filled wanderlust, traversing new places constantly. Dreams endless, each old invoking a new star to populate my sky.

I am hawthorn tree and staunch boar; stubborn, at times unyielding. Works self into the ground at regular intervals. Willing to give everything for others when needed and not needed. Place those around me above my self. I am INFP and one; sensitive dreamer, loyal and easily wounded. Sanity is continually dependent on my car, my computer and the bed of blue.

I am sleepless nights and lines of code; geek, gamer, web creator and fangirl. X-men spectator; fan by fanatic, all around comic enthusiast. Watcher of almost all sci-fi space shows; third generation Trekkie; shameless gamer. Lover of all stories of love. I am oddity and intensity; have worked with children, elderly, handicapped, retail, museums, and comic fanboys.

I am husky fragrance and flowing form; female of the species, mostly free-spirit tomboy to slowly charming woman. Still prefers bare feet to sandals, sandals to heels, but thongs to underwear and bath bombs to soap bars. Have outgrown tank tops and discovered scarves, elegant dresses, and girl-cut shirts. Secretly entranced with becoming a girl.

I am fire's ember and phoenix's flare; posses long fuse, explosive temper and hidden scars. Still learning how to cry. Starts more things than are finished. Lives in a constant state of inspiration, gratitude, and hunger. I am a water creature; a palette of deep browns, pale pinks, and deep blues. Needs forests and oceans, needs cities and cars.

I am ever woods and crumpled papers; faithful, honest, nervous and judgmental extroverted introvert. I am understanding and hypocritical. Loving and hoping beyond reason. Forgive everything, forget nothing. Think too much about my body; yet content with my weight. Believe that all forms of falling in love and making mistakes should be embraced.


My second one, aka The Massive and Informative One, you'll find as the top first entry of both my live journal (here) and my dream width (here), which is from many years, but was mostly recently updated today/yesterday.

It comes with when, where whats of I was born, where I'm living now and with who, and then a plethora of tiny overviews of important topics: Parents & Family, Spirituality & Religion, Education, Health & Body, Sexuality & Politics, Strong Passions, Fandoms & Fannish, Places to Find Me, and Filters You Can Opt In To and Out Of.

Another awesome introduction is My Mini-Gaming Intro Link. It was made in late 2015, during my foray into some new games while partaking of fandom/gaming community involvement on Plurk (but is updated often enough).

Some recent & relevant pictures  )



Subject Index )

[ SECRET POST #3942 ]

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 06:47 pm
case: (Default)
[personal profile] case posting in [community profile] fandomsecrets

⌈ Secret Post #3942 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

01.


More! )


Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 01 pages, 09 secrets from Secret Submission Post #564.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.
oursin: Drawing of hedgehog in a cave, writing in a book with a quill pen (Writing hedgehog)
[personal profile] oursin

And I suspect that it is Very Much Not Done to yell 'Speak up' or 'Use the Mike' when someone is giving an important formal lecture signifying professional advancement.

Maybe my hearing is getting even worse than I thought? Or maybe that lecture theatre has really crap acoustics.

(Speaker is a lovely person who does lovely work, and I bought the book that was also being launched and had it signed, but I was really rather frustrated by the actual lecture.)

But at least there were some really lovely visuals which were entirely relevant to the topic on hand.

Also put in a bit of a strop by the young person who checked my name off the list, and said 'join the queue', waving in the opposite direction to where it turned out the relevant queue was forming.

But I did see two people I knew (besides speaker) and did a little bit of catch-up with them, so I have socialed more than I recently have.

Reading: The Comfortable Courtesan, Volume 1

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 07:27 pm
white_hart: (Default)
[personal profile] white_hart
I suspect everyone reading this review here is already familiar with this, but for anyone who hasn't come across it before, The Comfortable Courtesan is a serial story set in Regency London, mostly narrated by Madame C-, a very exclusive courtesan, in which we hear of her exploits and those of her circle of friends and acquaintances, which includes artists, actors, political radicals and her upper-class clients. It began as a one-off response to a "post three sentences from a nonexistent novel" challenge in May 2015 and has now grown to more than 700 individual posts, with twelve ebook compendiums of the main story (which is now complete) as well as a number of side-pieces and two novella-length stories taking place some years after the majority of the action. I've been following the blog from the start, but I was browsing through my Kindle in search of comfort reading and when I came across the ebooks I decided it was time to revisit the very early days.

It's an absolutely delightful read. It's written in a pastiche of the style of the period, and as the author is a historian of gender and sexuality it's historically accurate although the subject-matter would never have seen the light of day then. Unsurprisingly, given Madame C-'s profession, it's unabashedly sex-positive, and features numerous LGBTQ+ characters, both male and female, as well as multiple characters of colour. The first volume features intrigue, scandal, matchmaking, female solidarity, epistolary mathematical flirtations and a wombatt, and it really is one of the most charming things I've ever read.
radiantfracture: (Default)
[personal profile] radiantfracture
Circa 1930s London: Katrine, the actor sister of a trio (journalist, actor, student) has her end-of-term show at Dramatic School. The narrator is her older sister, Deirdre.

Ahem.

* * *

The end-of-term shows at the Dramatic School were so funny that my nose began to bleed, and I had to grope my way out and yell it off in the cloak-rooms. But mother, shuddering with giggles, sat it all out so as to be able to say what there was to say to Katrine. Her roles included Polonius, and she'd just got to "costly thy habit" when her beard came half off and swung like a pendulum for the rest of the scene, and in The Professor's Love Story (Oh! what a bad play!) the gate stuck, and pinned that whimsical recluse to his own fence.

And later on, mother told me, one of the girls (as a farmer) had to fill a pipe and smoke it, and she stuffed the bowl so full that a man in the audience said "Christ" out loud, and of course it wouldn't draw, and the girl pulled nearly all of it out again, and mother said "The stage was knee-deep in shag. That girl ought to get on."

* * *

Reading it, I barked helplessly like a hoarse hound.

{rf}

i'd put you in a mirror i put in front of me

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 10:28 am
musesfool: anakin's lightsaber (this is your life)
[personal profile] musesfool
The past few nights, I've been in bed by 10:15, so last night when I stayed up until 11 (which is my usual bedtime), I was like, "it's so late!"

It's getting darker earlier, which always makes it feel later than it is, but last night 11 pm felt like 2 am for some reason.

For some reason my DVR didn't pick up the season premiere of Star Wars Rebels on Monday (at any of the times it aired) but it did have the first half hour set to record last night, so I pressed record for the second episode as well (why does it do that? I do not understand!), even though I watched both live.

spoilers of Mandalore )

***

Dept. of Cat Purgatory.

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 08:36 am
kaffyr: Kitty from "Kiki's Delivery Service" (kiki cat)
[personal profile] kaffyr
The Good News Is...

Phil's home, and with both external ears. I am amazed at the lack of communication that can occur over the phone; I specifically heard the other doctor say the external ear had been removed, and I specifically asked about that - and was told yes, the ear was taken. Apparently "external ear" means different things to cat owners and vets. No matter: that's good. 

What's making this an awful, bad, no good day for everyone is the medication regimen. We're supposed to give him an antibiotic once every twelve hours, and two painkillers: gabapentin, again, once every 12 hours, and hydromorphone, once every 6-8 hours. 

Since we got him home yesterday afternoon, we've gotten one gabapentin dose in him, and one antibiotic dose, and, we think, one hydromorphone dose. He is horrible about opening his mouth, and literally twists himself upside down to avoid doing so. We're supposed to keep up this regimen every day for five days (the hydromorphone) and 10 days (the antibiotic). This may or may not happen. He's gotten so stressed; at one point, losing control of his bowels. Poor little guy. Jesus ....

Also? He has to wear the cone of shame for 10 days, except when we take it off him to let him eat, drink, and - ha - take his medicine. The poor guy is running into walls and everything else, we've had to take the top off the catbox because he can't get in with it on, and he definitely can't get up or down to places he normally wants to go. 

He slept on me for much of last night, after I lifted him to the bed. I didn't get much sleep, nor did BB. I called in sick today, although I'll try to get at least a couple of things done; if the hydromorphone we think we got into him 15 minutes ago takes hold and he sleeps again, I'm going to catch a few wink. 

It's like having a baby again. Except one with claws, some teeth, a lot of stress, and stitches. 

Gah.

Enhanced, by Carrie Jones

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 08:14 am
mrissa: (Default)
[personal profile] mrissa
Review copy provided by Tor Books.

This is the sequel to last year's charming Flying. It's not a bad book, but it highlights the perils of sequels rather clearly. Flying has a clear emotional arc and core: Mana is figuring out what the heck is going on with aliens and enhanced humans and her place in the world, but her relationship with her mother and her friends is rock solid. In Enhanced, the central mystery is far smaller in scale. The basic facts of the world are known and we're down to figuring out the details. Mana's mother is out of commission, and her relationship with her friends is shaky for most of it.

Possibly worse, her combination of cheerleader and superpowered (enhanced, as in the title) individual really doesn't get a chance to shine for a full three-quarters of the book. Mana is scared, uncertain, and on the defensive--which is fine, but it's less fun to read about than Mana discovering, exploring, and kicking butt.

There are some new aliens, some new government agencies, some new developments in the world. But in general this feels like a little more of the same but less so. A de-escalation in some senses, a holding pattern. I still believe that Jones has somewhere to take Mana and her pals Seppie and Lyle, and this book is a fast read to get to the next step, but...we're not at the next step yet, and I don't really feel closer.

Please consider using our link to buy Enhanced from Amazon. Or Flying.

Books read, early October

Thursday, October 19th, 2017 07:54 am
mrissa: (Default)
[personal profile] mrissa
Elizabeth Bear, The Stone in the Skull. Discussed elsewhere.

Sean B. Carroll, Endless Forms Most Beautiful: The New Science of Evo Devo. Evo devo is, generally speaking, bullshit, but Carroll is someone I heard at Nobel Conference, and he goes beyond Just So Stories; he is a good egg. And he talked in general in this volume, stuff that one could find anywhere and probably already knew if one had the slightest interest, but then also about insect wing patterns, and the insect wing pattern stuff was interesting, so basically: skim to get to the insect wings.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Blithedale Romance. Kindle. I had had such smashing success with 19th century novels lately! (Oh my Middlemarch.) And this one is set in a Fourierist phalanx and I thought, brilliant, lovely, let's do that then, perhaps I love Hawthorne now too! Oh. Oh neighbors. No. No not so much. Poor Mr. Hawthorne. I read all the many many pages of Middlemarch, and North and South and Framley Parsonage and so on, and never once did I think, well, poor lamb, I suppose you can't help it, it's like being born before antibiotics. And yet with The Blithedale Romance I caught myself thinking that on nearly every page. Because it was the only way through, the other alternative was to shake him until his teeth rattled and send him to bed without supper, two punishments that would not occur to me without 19th century novelists, thank you my dear Louisa. So: he goes on at great length about how men have no tenderness really, and there is a bunch of maundering stuff about women's work and the purity of women and how bachelors have to obsess about whether the women around them have known marriage before (hint: nope, obsessing on this topic is completely optional), there is a Dreadful Secret, he abandons all interest in the Fourierist phalanx except as background noise...oh Hawthorne. Oh Hawthorne no.

Ursula K. LeGuin, Searoad. Reread. I first read this when I lived in Oregon. I keep learning things about characterization from it, how she creates a seaside town one person at a time, how the stories link and twine and inform each other. This time, thanks to a conversation I'm having with Marie Brennan, I thought about how differently it would read if the stories were in a different order, how a character is shown novelistically though the structure looks like short stories.

Carter Meland, Stories for a Lost Child. This is a literary science fiction novel in an Anishinaabe tradition; the way that Meland uses the rhythms and patterning of language are not at all the same as the way Gerald Vizenor does in Treaty Shirts, and having more than one is really nice, I want more, yay. Stories for a Lost Child goes forward and backward in time, contemporary teenagers trying to figure things out, a grandfather writing with stories previously barely dreamed of, a space program, past pure water, all sorts of elements that fold together.

Mary Szybist, Incarnadine. This is a poetry collection focused--not in a religious-inspirational way, in a literary way--on the Annunciation. The image, the idea of the Annunciation threads through these poems, beautifully. They are beautiful poems. I was beginning to worry that they were all going to be beautiful poems and none of them were going to be heart-touching for me--that I was going to nod along and say, yes, beautiful, well done, but never, oh, oh, would you look at THIS one--and then, and then there was Here There Are Blueberries, so: oh. Would you look at THIS one.

Carrie Vaughn, Bannerless. I had previously enjoyed some of Vaughn's short stories but not really been the target audience for the Kitty books, so I was really excited at what a complete departure this is. It's a police procedural of sorts, with flashbacks to the (sorta) cop's young adulthood. It's also a post-apocalyptic novel, with a catastrophe that has led people to seriously consider their resource usage. And it's also a relationship story that, because of flashback structure, allows the protagonist to grow past her teenage relationship, to change and be an adult. For a short novel, there's a lot going on, and it all fits together and wraps itself up by the end. Pleased.
flo_nelja: (Default)
[personal profile] flo_nelja
Titre : Le monde des vivants
Auteur : [personal profile] flo_nelja
Fandom : Mythologie hawaiienne
Couple : Hi'iaka/Hopoe, Hi'iaka et Pele
Genre : Angst
Résumé : Après la mort d'Hopoe, Hi'iaka décide de se venger de sa soeur, et de descendre dans le monde des morts trouver la seule arme qui puisse la détruire. Cela ne tournera pas comme elle avait prévu. (Il y a de nombreuses versions de cette légende. Dans celle que j'utilise, Hopoe ne revient pas, mais Hi'iaka n'épouse pas Lohiau non plus)
Rating : PG-13
Disclaimer : Domaine public !
Nombre de mots : ~2000
Notes : Ecrit pour le jour "Character death" de la dark femslash week, et aussi pour le thème "Fairy tales and folklore" de ladiesbingo.

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