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@angelagualtieri
The Atlas Paradox Interior Art
Have you preordered @olivieblake’s The Atlas Paradox yet?
You’ll want to, because it’s got some stunning art that we’re about to show-off…5 INCREDIBLE character-pairing illustrations from @littlechmura!
What do they mean? Who knows! But tell us ALL your thoughts and theories.
And who’s up first? That’d be Tristan & Nico.
Wow what’s going on there boys 👀
(next pairing tk 10/5 🎨)
The Atlas Paradox - Excerpt Reveal
The Atlas Paradox is the long-awaited sequel to @olivieblake‘s New York Times bestselling dark academic sensation The Atlas Six.
Six magicians were presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. Five are now members of the Society. Two paths lay before them.
All must pick a side.
Alliances will be tested, hearts will be broken, and The Society of Alexandrians will be revealed for what it is: a secret society with raw, world-changing power, headed by a man whose plans to change life as we know it are already under way.
Please enjoy this free excerpt of The Atlas Paradox by Olivie Blake, on sale 10/25/22
Keep reading
S.P.E.L.L. presents:
EMPIRE OF SAND by Tasha Suri
I am very excited to say my friend and SFF connoisseur @angelagualtieri is guest-hosting our discussion today! My thoughts are injected below, but as I am a mess and more importantly, Angela is great with this genre, please enjoy her review. Also note that you can find Angela's other book reviews on her Tumblr and her Instagram account, @agnovels.
I’ve had EMPIRE OF SAND by Tasha Suri on my radar for some time. Several people have recommended the book to me, and Olivie actually sent me the article she mentioned to introduce this month’s pick. All the signs were pointing to it being time for me to finally read this book. And what an interesting ride it was.
Although the pacing was a bit slower than I initially anticipated, I read this book within two days. Suri’s writing style is more direct, which contributed to my quick experience. (OB: I found Suri's style really compelling as well.) There are several aspects of the book I’ve seen praised, but for me, three things stuck out: the setting, the cultural influences, and the thematic elements.
Mid-year Book Freakout
Thanks @olivieblake for the tag!
Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2021? Since this said best book, not series, I’ll go with KINDRED by Octavia Butler.
Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2021? Specifically, the second book in a series: WUNDERSMITH: THE CALLING OF MORRIGAN CROW by Jessica Townsend. (I’ve been really preferring third and/or final books in series more than second books.)
New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? KINGDOM OF SHADOW AND LIGHT by Karen Marie Moning.
Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2021? WINGS OF SHADOW by Nicki Pau Preto.
Biggest Disappointment? Only looking at books I finished and not DNFs, this has to be SENLIN ASCENDS by Josiah Bancroft. I still enjoyed it, but I didn’t love it like I thought I would.
Biggest Surprise? My current read, A SHADOW IN SUMMER by Daniel Abraham.
Favorite New Author? Steven Erikson.
Newest Fiction Crush? I don’t know that I have one.
Newest Favorite Character? Kest Murrowson from Sebastien de Castell’s THE GREATCOATS series. I love him so much lol.
Book That Made You Cry? I don’t really cry at books, but if I was going to cry out of rage and wasting my time, then THE THOUSAND DEATHS OF ARDOR BENN by Tyler Whitesands. (I do not recommend this.)
Book That Made You Happy? PRIDE AND PREJUDICE by Jane Austen.
Favorite Book Adaption You Saw This Year? Borrowing Olivie’s answer for this one: MY COUSIN RACHEL by Daphne du Maurier. (Do not watch the 2020 Netflix adaptation of REBECCA.)
Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? My instagram review of THE GREATCOATS series by Sebastien de Castell. It was a fun one to write.
Most Beautiful Book You Bought So Far This Year? Probably my illustrated editions of LOTR and THE HOBBIT.
What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? Ugh. Everything? Abercrombie’s new series, Jemisin’s INHERITANCE TRILOGY, more Butler, and CITY OF BRASS by S.A. Chakraborty.
Tag: Anyone who wants to do it.
High house dark, knight of darkness.
————————
If I have this amount of patience at work, I shall already get out of poverty.
And thank you all for those advices! They are all very helpful. I am working on the deck right now, hopefully I could show you some progress next week.
S.P.E.L.L. Presents:
KINDRED by Octavia Butler
When we talked last month about Victorian constraints on female behavior, I mentioned the caveat that it lacked the experiences of more marginalized womanhood. KINDRED, as a neo-slave narrative considered by Butler to be a "grim fantasy," is not by any means the answer to comprehensively exploring what it means to be a woman in historical context, but it provides us a very unique comparison between the customs and ethos of the Antebellum South with that of supposedly progressive Los Angeles in the 1970s—coincidentally, the era of second-wave feminism, which addressed the social inequity of men and women as opposed to political rights like suffrage.
The contrast between eras allows us to explore the question of how much progress has actually been made. A lot, right? The fact that Dana can casually liken her position in the temp agency to a slave auction proves an obvious initial degree of distance. But also, much of what she experiences both within and as a result of her interracial marriage proves this progress woefully incomplete. How much of the imbalance is gender, how much is race? This is the kind of question we'll never be able to answer, which contributes a lot, in my mind, to how we conceive of intersectional feminism.
Which leads me to the first question I posed: who is the most problematic white man in the book? Is it Rufus, who learns from an early age to value Dana as an individual and yet cannot extend that value to the rest of her race? Is it his father, the product of an inexcusable era? Is it Kevin, a good man who works with the Underground Railroad and opposes slavery but who is angered when Dana refuses to transcribe his writing? The afterword mentions that Kevin's race and gender implicate him in the culture of supremacy and "suggests an uncanny synonymy of the words 'husband' and 'master.'" Did this strike you at all while reading? Again, the impossible question: how much of this is race, how much is gender?
Kindred by Octavia Butler is a masterpiece. It’s one of those rare books where not a single word is wasted from the onset of the story to the very end. It didn’t need to be longer nor shorter. It is perfect exactly as it is, or at least for me, it was. Kindred is a classic in its own right not only for how it discusses the past, but also because of how it showed its present (and it’s still relevant today). This book touches on so many significant themes from race to gender to questions about what the “right thing” looks like. You can probably already tell what my overall feeling was about this book, so onto the discussion.
Who is the most problematic white man in Kindred? For me, the answer changed the more into the story I went. In the beginning, the easiest conclusion to come to is Rufus. He’s a slave-owner, manipulative, abusive, and a rapist to boot. You’d think he wouldn’t have much competition. However, Butler’s clever. The past and the present begin to blend when you examine Dana’s relationship with her husband more closely. Though Rufus’ actions are deplorable, Kevin’s aren’t so saintly either, especially during one particular scene of note (we’ll get more into that below). Suddenly, ownership and marriage look very much alike. The historical context of the era and specific place Rufus lives in lend themselves as excuses as to why Rufus is the way he is. With Kevin, he lives in 1970s California, a place we assume is progressive. It’s this assumption that catches us. Rufus is just as bad as we expect him to be, but Kevin, he disappoints us more because we expect him to be better. So, who is the most problematic white man? The answer is all of them.
Do you agree with Dana’s choices in the past, most notably what she does to ensure her birth? This question is the crux of the novel for me. Butler makes Dana so relatable from the moment she sets foot on the page. I cared about this character immensely and believed in the struggle she was facing. For that, I can’t help but want her to ensure she exists even if it means standing by while terrible things have to happen. On the other, I’d wish Dana had chosen differently, to be less selfish and do the “right thing” even if it meant she wouldn’t exist. Butler forces a hard question in the form of Dana that we can all relate: Don’t we all want to exist? Don’t we all want to live? It’s hard to say we don’t agree with Dana’s choices knowing we’d probably do the same thing for the chance to survive.
Why did Kevin ask Dana to type for him? Here it is, I told you we’d get to this. Perhaps one of the most unexpectedly unsettling scenes in the entire book was when Kevin asks Dana to type for him. She refuses, and he grows angry. When I put it like that, it doesn’t make a lot of sense as to why this might be problematic. He doesn’t harm her physically. He just asks her to do something small, and she says no. Why is this in particular so bothersome then? Well, for a number of reasons. Initially, we know Dana abhors secretarial work (this includes typing). We also know both her and Kevin are writers. When I read this part, it caught me off guard, and my first thought was: ‘Why is Kevin asking her this? Is it because she’s a woman? Is it because she’s black? Is it because he feels she is inferior in some way?’ Then I wondered, ‘why is he getting so angry?’ As a writer, I would never ask my husband to type for me. Words are important, and unfiltered words most especially. Those words aren’t for anyone other than me, to get the thought out of my head. To show it to someone else is so personal…it’s perhaps one of the most personal things you can do as a writer. I don’t think Kevin’s intention was to reach a new level of closeness in his marriage (unless that level was subservience). It was this moment where I remember asking myself how much different were Dana’s present and past, especially in regards to the white men trying to control her.
What about the stakes? Something Kindred has altered for me from a writing perspective is how to handle stakes. From the onset of the book, I found myself sick with worry for Dana. The opening catches your breath and hurtles you straight into action without a safety neat. Combined with an understanding of Dana’s genetic makeup and the historical setting, Butler creates stakes immediately, increasing them until the very end. I’ve never seen stakes handled this way. Yes, there have been other stories where I knew the author wasn’t playing games, but Butler does it in such a different and unique way, thereby altering my expectations for stakes in other works.
I don’t read a lot of novels with the slave narrative trope, so I can’t really comment too much on how this book has altered my past thoughts. However, I do know Kindred has set the bar for any future slave narratives I might pick up. (Exceptions are non-fiction.)
Overall, I loved this book. It’s one I know I will be revisiting. The moment I finished reading, I wanted to go back to the beginning and start again. There are things I know I still have yet to uncover from this book both as a reader and a writer. It’s a book I wish everyone would read.
S.P.E.L.L. Presents:
TOO MUCH: How Victorian Constraints Still Bind Women Today by Rachel Vorona Cote
While last month’s historical romance was a perfect example of how entire genres are built on the (very enjoyable!) romanticization of the Regency, Victorian, and Edwardian eras, this month we’re discussing how stigma from those eras may have contributed to today’s gender politics. In the context of the recent events of violence against women, it seems particularly relevant to keep one eye on how sex, gender, and power contribute to a social fabric that our media and/or politics don’t always accurately identify or name.
The central thesis of this book is that a woman who is “Too Much” is a woman who defies Victorian social constraints and expectations; aptly, the sections of the book are broken up into Too Much qualities: women who feel too much (chatterbox: hysterical women), women with gumption (nerve: demanding women), women who are too close to other women (close: wlw), women who take up space (plus: fat women), women with mental illness (crazy), women who self-harm (cut), women who enjoy sex (horny), women who cheat (cheat: also sluts), loud women (loud) and of course, a classic: old women (old).
I can’t remember a time that I haven’t been told that I’m “a lot.” I’ve been called a bitch, high-strung, the kind of woman who needs to “chill out,” “take a chill pill,” “did you forget your meds this morning?” only to be congratulated whenever I manage to hide it; “you’ve really chilled out,” said a boy I knew from high school who sat next to me on a plane ride home in college. I know what it is to be rewarded for being quiet, for not laughing too loudly, for managing my mental health, for being crazy only in a way that makes me ethereal and interesting rather than unstable or in need of help. I am familiar with wondering: is there something wrong with me for wanting sex for my own pleasure, or for resenting the expectation that when it comes to anything from intimacy to food, I should starve? So there was a lot of validation for me in this book, by acknowledging that the aberrations I feel in myself are actually rooted in some gendered need to keep me contained. It reminded me a lot of our ORLANDO read in that way, particularly with the way Woolf’s gender non-conforming Orlando reflects on the social disparity in the Victorian age.
Keep reading
As part-literary criticism and part-memoir, Rachel Vorona Cote’s Too Much: How Victorian Constraints Still Bind Women Today discusses the overarching meaning of the term “too much.” Broken into several categories, there’s a lot to digest and discuss. It’s one of those books I can see myself returning to again and again to reread completely or just specific chapters. For the sake of brevity and the difficulty of focusing during mid-pandemic, I’ve narrowed it down as much as I could for this month’s discussion.
As the book is broken into 10 sections, certain parts appealed to me more than others, but as a whole, like Olivie, this book validated different past versions of myself with one common trait: being too much. As for which parts, there were two chapters that hit a little too close to home and one that reminded me of something unexpectedly funny.
Close I’m not surprised the section that impacted me the most was the one where Cote discusses the relationships women have with other women. The chapter begins with: “I am a composite of the women I have loved. I am built and reconstituted from my memories of them: words and embraces exchanged, the smell of their hair and the soap smoothed into their skin” (74). There’s something both lovely and calming about that line, but it also rings true. The very first relationship you have is with your mother in utero (the exception here is if you’re a twin). From our very inception, the relationships we have with women define our very core – those with our mothers, grandmothers, and sisters. They can come in all shapes and sizes, but the effects are lasting. This also transitions to the female relationships we have outside our family, whether they be platonic or romantic.
While I’ve always had strong male friendships, it’s the ones I’ve had with other females that have left the most impressions upon me. Growing up, I wasn’t as interested in romantic relationships as some of my peers. If I did have crushes, it was a rarity, and I kept them to myself or only told my best friend. I was not the fair-weather crusher either. Rather, what I did put my effort into were my close female friendships. They were always priority for me, even over my romantic ones. This remained true as I grew older. In my mind, my lasting relationships would be with them, not the boy who’d dump me a week later because I didn’t sit with him at lunch. (Currently, I have learned a healthier balance with all of my relationships.)
Over time, those friendships have gone or faded. Some remain and new ones have blossomed. As you grow, you need and want different things. People can change with you, and others can’t for one reason or another, resulting in the relationship’s demise. I’d like to think I wasn’t at fault in those instances, but I’m realistic enough to know that’s not true. I am the antagonist in someone else’s story. As Cote says, “We have all shit the friendship bed at some time or another. But too muchness is already such a painfully stigmatized quality; when it becomes the grounds for rejection, we are predisposed to slip into self-loathing” (85). I carry a scarred heart, but the majority of the ones that run the deepest are from women.
Cheat In the opening of Chapter Nine, Cote discusses the anxiety and representation of wedding rings. In an anecdote to explain one of the annoyances associated with ring shopping, I had (unsurprisingly) an unexpected reaction: I laughed. Cote writes, “A wedding band, slightly slicked with hand cream, that flees your finger with a flick of your hand. A wedding band that—in the perfect convergence of circumstances—transforms an afternoon into a cliché by bouncing off your ring finger onto the sidewalk and then clinking tragically down a storm drain” (230-231). Cote uses metaphorical foreshadowing with the loss of the ring to connect a difficult part of her story, but for me, a very vivid memory came to mind. (This is a perfect example of how reading can be so subjective and reactions so diverse.) When I was newly engaged, my ring was slightly too big. I had just gotten used to it (I don’t wear a lot of jewelry), and I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the idea of it being gone for two weeks to be resized. My husband, then fiancé, was worried it would slip off my finger. To stubbornly demonstrate everything was fine with my ring, I started waving my hand up and down. After a few waves, the slightly-too-large ring slipped off my finger and bounced onto the tiled bathroom floor with a resounding clink. The result? My ring was taken to be resized the following day, and my husband has never forgotten. (As he likes to jokingly say, this is why I can’t have nice things.)
Loud Besides the focus on female relationships, the other section of the book that hit me harder than expected was in “Loud,” where Cote discusses being a woman in the professional realm. I’ve mentioned before that my work history features prominently in very male-dominated fields. To be taken seriously as a woman in a room full of men is to wave a red flag in front of a bull, but to do so while also being/appearing young is to scale a full-fledged war. Cote says, “We must demonstrate ourselves to be just as witty as our male colleagues, and after hours, we gain respect by holding our liquor at raucous happy hours. But for women, the line between confidence and exuberance is a fraught and muddled one indeed. One false step is damning, and we’re never precisely sure where the traps are laid” (267). I fully agree with her point here (as well as elsewhere in this chapter), having lived it myself. Luckily, as I got older, I learned how to navigate this arena to make it work differently (for me). I don’t need to gain respect at happy hours by holding my alcohol. I can do it more effectively in a conference room by commandeering someone else’s meeting (when the occasion calls for it) or by controlling my own. I may be too much, but I’ve never had someone tell me I wasn’t good enough at my job. I’ll take the win, no matter the size.
Works I found my thoughts on Victorian literature were both echoed and contrasted by Cote, depending on the work in question. In my academic pursuits, I studied literature with respect to gender and societal constraints. On several of Cote’s points, I found myself agreeing or had previously argued myself. Others were interesting to read as I wasn’t familiar with the works. Then there were the couple that made me groan. (This isn’t because Cote didn’t argue her point masterfully, but because of the subject.) This occurred mostly during her discussion of the Bronte sisters and Austen. I love Jane Austen’s works while I admittedly don’t love the Bronte sisters, especially Wuthering Heights. Jane Eyre presents a entirely different problem for me as I read it at a young age and haven’t reread it since, but I have a feeling I would have several issues with it now (e.g., MR. ROCHESTER LOCKED HIS WIFE IN THE ATTIC). On another note, I’ve never been more inclined to pick up Wide Sargasso Sea. Although we have different preferences (you can tell Cote’s a Bronte person), I did appreciate the angle on Mrs. Bennett, Elizabeth’s mother in Pride and Prejudice. I also loved the discussion on women who are not written for women, specifically Arya Stark. (This concept could be a discussion on its own, whether about Martin’s portrayal of women within ASOIAF or as a wider examination of male authors writing non-feminine female characters.)
*Several of Cote’s points and the works mentioned reminded me of the discussion we had in October 2020 about Mexican Gothic. I wonder as to what Cote’s thoughts would have been on that book in particular as well as more modern literature that pulls from a Victorian foundation.
Quotes These are only some of the lines that stuck out to me:
“No ugly crying for Del Rey, that’s for certain, only elegant distress, free of snot and gulping sobs” (137).
“There is no risk in referencing a private struggle so long as one’s public image remains pristine” (165).
“We do not choose the brains that spark inside our heads, lifting us into bliss, bearing us across a placid sea, and then, without warning, casting us into hell” (183).
“Some pain chooses us more than we choose it” (184).
“….it’s always the dark-haired women in Victorian literature who find themselves in the most trouble” (218).
Please. Spill how you helped ignite the absolutely fabulous Rebecca fic Olivie posted!
Hi there Anon,
@olivieblake and I share a love of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, but more specifically, a fascination with her titular character. I had the idea to write a nonfiction piece about it, and very much like she does in the book, Rebecca took control of my essay. The essay centers on the many different versions of Rebecca we see through the lens of other characters, her relationship with Manderley itself, and the details of her death. I sent the working draft to Olivie, and she honed in on the section about Max and his marriage to Rebecca. Thus, the spark for “Your Love (Déjà Vu).” The essay isn’t posted/published anywhere yet, but when it is, I will link it here and on my bookstagram.
New Post:
Your Love (Déjà Vu) [ AO3 ]
Fuck love. This was never a love story.
( pls direct any and all grievances to @angelagualtieri for writing the essay on Rebecca that sparked this in my head )
I will HAPPILY address any and all grievances for this.
S.P.E.L.L. Presents:
THE SUFFRAGETTE SCANDAL by Courtney Milan
Last month we did an in-depth analysis of literary bildungsroman, this month we get horny and judge men! My fave way to spend a February.
So, Courtney Milan: if you do not know of her, aside from her books she is perhaps best known for being very vocal about racism in the historical romance industry. She’s a powerful advocate (she’s a lawyer who clerked for two supreme court justices, kind of a Big Deal) and her intelligence and attention to detail really show in the way she builds her characters. It’s actually why I sometimes don’t care for her books, because other authors offer more escapism; for lack of a better word, other books in the genre contribute to a more “Bridgerton-esque” fantasy than Milan, who not only features historical social conflicts but also focuses on hurt/comfort, which occasionally means trudging through a heavy emotional denouement I don’t always have the patience for. But, that being said, there is a difference between fantasy/escapism and whitewashing (given the choice, I lean Milan’s school of thought all the way), and Milan’s message here about feminism was too powerful to pass up.
Edward says, not entirely incorrectly, that Free’s methods in attempting to secure rights for women were like, “trying to empty the Thames with a thimble.” He PAINFULLY (from my contemporary point of view, which is especially frustrating as an American woman post-2016) points out that what will women win? Not respect, maybe *a* symbolic female prime minister or two, but so what? And then Free turns the concept on its head, so that what Edward intended as a metaphor for the fruitlessness/incrementalism of feminism then becomes a reframed lens for the importance of political/social activism:
“Do you think I don’t know that the only tool I have is my thimble? I’m the one wielding it. I know. There are days I stare out at the Thames and wish I could stop […] My arms are tired, and there’s so much water that I’m afraid it’ll pull me under. But do you know why I keep going?… Because I’m not trying to empty the Thames. […] You see a river rushing by without end. You see a sad collection of women with thimbles, all dipping out an inconsequential amount. But we’re not trying to empty the Thames. […] Look at what we’re doing with the water we remove. It doesn’t go to waste. We’re using it to water our gardens, sprout by sprout. We’re growing bluebells and clovers where once there was a desert. All you see is the river, but I care about the roses.”
Keep reading
Courtney Milan has been on my radar for some time, and I’ve wanted to pick up her books, especially her Brothers Sinister Series. Her advocacy and direct nature appeals to me as both a woman and a reader. Sometimes, I want more from a historical romance than escapist appeal, so I was ecstatic when Olivie picked one of her books for this month’s S.P.E.L.L. read.
General Thoughts Olivie touches on one of the themes Milan executes brilliantly: Edward’s question concerning what women stand to win. This concept hit me much harder than I expected. Although I knew Milan’s feminism message would be threaded throughout the narrative, I didn’t expect the force of it to be as strong considering we exist in a more “modernized” society. The book really did make me reflect on how much has really changed, not just for women, but in other areas of social injustice. Further, Milan reminded me even the smallest steps still count and still matter on the long road toward equality.
Overall, I really enjoyed this book. The chemistry and banter between Free and Edward were right up my alley. I found myself rooting for them from the start. This book was rare for me because while I loved the main romance, I also really loved the two side romances just as much, especially between Amanda and Genevieve. Something else I also appreciated was the quick resolution to the miscommunication. Nothing takes me out of a romance like miscommunication. I don’t like that trope, and it seems very common in more modern romances (whether that means publication date or genre).
Can we more effectively combat the whitewashing or classism of historical romance through optics (i.e., by casting actors of color, a la Bridgerton) or by modernizing the lens through which we read? Effectively combating the whitewashing or classism of historical romance is going to be reached by a multitude of approaches including optics and applying a modern lens. I absolutely loved the casting in Bridgerton (my issues were some of the plot points the showrunners kept from the original material). For me, the casting choices made season one, and I would love to see more romance adaptations happen (especially from less problematic source material and from a wider range of authors). I do think a modern lens is also required to make things more acceptable for a modern audience (the main issue of Bridgerton is a good examples of this). By consuming a wider variety of entertainment, we can take the steps to diversity books, television, movies, etc., especially with respect to historical-themed media.
What do you think about Milan’s approach to activism in historical romance? Coming out of a year like 2020, did this book resonate with you more? Did its message appeal to you, or did you find it obtrusive? I really appreciate Milan’s approach to activism. Some of the main reasons I enjoyed The Suffragette Scandal were because of the representation, thematic messages, and activism threaded throughout the novel. For me, it made for a better story. Free’s motives were strongly embedded in her activism, so without them, her characterization as well as the book’s plot would have been drastically different. 2020 was a highly reflective year for most people, especially with respect to social injustice. I’d like to think the book would have resonated with me the same amount, but I can’t honestly judge how much 2020 impacted my reading experience.
How did you feel about the use of real women in a fictionalized, almost utopian view of history? Does activism have a place in genre romance? Some of the most effective historical works utilize real people, but as minor characters or through mentions. (This is also a good way to avoid criticism for “accurate” portrayals.) It’s one of the easiest ways to help ground the reader in the book as creating the right atmosphere is huge for historical fiction. That being said, I’m all for the use of fictionalizing real women, especially if it sheds light on stories that would otherwise not be seen. In the historical fiction genre, this is acceptable, so why not in the historical romance subgenre? Romance novels tend to have a very stereotyped view: fluff pieces, centered on a relationship with a happy ending. While a romance novel by nature does focus on a relationship and requires a happy ending, nowhere does it say it needs to be without any substance. Just like any other genre, you can find a wide array of works, some leaning more into fluff while others can have strong thematic threads like activism.
“Ask a Man” Column I loved this aspect of the novel. I was laughing out loud at certain points, and this element balanced out the more serious scenes in the book.
Edward is obviously very deferential to Free’s dreams and desires. How does he compare to other depictions of male love interests? In my opinion, what could have felt very pandering (the whole “oh, it’s your choice” archetype of a man written by a woman) worked well for his specific characterization; the con man/morally grey persona falling for someone with a lot of very firm convictions felt right to me. Do you agree or disagree? I agree with Olivie when it comes to the romance between Edward and Free. There was a good balance there, specifically because Free is so passionate while Edward is more in the supportive role. So often in hetero relationships we see this executed in the reverse: the male lead has strong convictions while the female is set to the supportive role. I appreciated this characterization, but more specifically that Edward never seemed resentful or angry toward Free’s drive and aspirations (except when she puts herself in danger). He compliments her and accepts her for who she is, which is so much more romantic to me than a plot line where one person has to change to fit the relationship. I have a tendency to like well-fleshed out, morally-gray characters, so this was not a surprise.
Favorite Quotes I read this as an ebook, so you’ll have to forgive me for the lack of page numbers. (I also loved the “Thames” passage Olivie mentions.)
“I’m like a unicorn: You’ll convince yourself in a few days that I was nothing but a horse, misapprehended in dim light.” Edward to Baron Lowery
“My entire life is a risk. That’s what it means when I put my name on a masthead and speak up.” Free to Edward
“Men use sexuality as a tool to shut up women. We are not allowed to speak on matters that touch sexual intercourse–even if they concern our own bodies and our own freedom–for fear of being labeled indelicate.” Free to Edward
“You don’t torture a man to find out the truth, Miss Marshall, no matter how the stories sound. Any real scoundrel will tell you as much. You torture a man to make him into someone else.” Edward to Free
to the anon who told me about epub sharing: thank you for letting me know! unfortunately there’s not much recourse short of getting a lawyer for a cease and desist, which I think might cost me more than the books have even made. I’ll report where I can, especially if the sites offer IP protection, so feel free to continue letting me know, but unfortunately even with a copyright it’s hard to protect a piece of work.
if anyone wants to be helpful, one thing I’m worried about is SEO; it would really suck for an epub link to overtake the actual book in a google search, and I’m not exactly driving tons of web traffic. so if anyone reading this wants to help, I’d love if you could just click the amazon link or my website, or if anyone has written a review or done an edit, please provide a link for the same reason. you don’t even have to buy the book! search results populate in order of engagement, so even just a click helps me try and make sure the first page of optimized search results is the actual book, not a pirated version of it. (also, I have been forgetting to mention this, but a preview of the sequel is here in my blog)
on a mildly related note: there’s a reason I always discuss the author when we talk about S.P.E.L.L. books, or why I no longer want to engage with JKR’s intellectual property, or why I don’t believe you can separate the art from the artist. because authors, creators, matter. what they believe matters. who they are matters. art, books, you name it, they aren’t just born from nothing, they come from somewhere, from someone, and I believe that should matter in both good ways and bad. in this case, piracy hurts not because I’m losing income, but because it means being treated like I do not matter. that my work could exist without me. it couldn’t. love it or hate it, love me or hate me, we are one and the same. and I just hope that when we as a community engage with and discuss art, we remember that these works are born from someone, and that should matter to us. it should matter how we treat art and consume it.
The Atlas Six is one of my favorite works by Olivie, but more importantly, SEO can impact authors in such significant ways. If you have a minute, please click one of the links she has listed to help drive search results to the proper copy of the book.
WIP Wednesday
I was tagged by @olivieblake , so I’m sharing an excerpt from my holiday short story, “Winter Wonderland,” that I’m almost done revising:
Ana pulled her hands away from her face to grasp the glass, pursing her lips. Swirling the wine, she inhaled the cedar-blackcurrant-spice mix before taking a sip. For a moment, with her eyes closed, she could forget she was one of four people in the Parson’s main room. She could drown out the blaring, joyous holiday music. And she could certainly feign ignorance toward the high-pitched, sentimental, tender words about sharing in the demented holiday season with a loved one.
She wasn’t bitter about being broken up with six days before Christmas.
Not. One. Bit.
(The manuscripts are in planning and under “thought” construction at the moment.)
Tagging @starryeyes22
S.P.E.L.L. Presents:
MY BRILLIANT FRIEND by Elena Ferrante
I kept last month’s discussion fairly simple, but this month I’d like to look at MY BRILLIANT FRIEND and the bildungsroman of Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels through the lens of some foundational S.P.E.L.L. motifs: not so much the sex positivity part (not in this book, anyway, although it is addressed in later eras of the characters’ lives), but more the foundations of girlhood, our relationships with other women, and the way the female experience shapes our outlooks and choices.
As a quick first note: if you weren’t already aware, Elena Ferrante is a pseudonym; the author’s identity is famously unknown. In my opinion it’s not very difficult in reading her works to understand her desire for secrecy—her work is so profoundly personal that I think it must be a matter of self-preservation. But anyway! I’m going to talk about the book by discussing the primary female relationships; feel free to add any commentary about these or anything else. (Please note that I DO always care about romance!! Please chat with me about that as you see fit! I just don’t want to give anything away.)
LENÙ GRECO/LILA CERULLO
Elena Ferrante’s work can be considered thematically within second-wave feminist literature—first-wave is mostly suffrage and political rights, whereas second-wave works are about sexuality, domestic entrapment, patriarchal social structures, etc.. She employs a very show-not-tell method of displaying the distinction between the roles and opportunities of men and women; for Giovanna in THE LYING LIFE OF ADULTS, disillusionment revolves around feminine self-deception where it comes to love, sex, and acceptance; for Olga in THE DAYS OF ABANDONMENT it’s the sudden emptiness of domesticity, a wife betrayed; the cultural mobility her husband has in leaving that she lacks, the agency she has given up as a wife and mother. In MY BRILLIANT FRIEND, it’s the misery of men that leads to them beating their families, thus forming the violence of the neighborhood; the reaction Nino has when he realizes Lenù is smarter and more eloquent than he is; the proclamation by Lila that Lenù must be smarter than everyone, boys or girls.
While narrated by a single character, the Neapolitan Novels are built around not just Lenù’s personal life story, but the balance or invisible space in the relationship between Lenù and her best friend (and occasional worst foil), Lila. It’s actually very interesting to me that we’re discussing this book at the same time as we’ve been discussing friend breakups; throughout the series, Lila and Lenù fall in and out with each other several times, usually as they encounter unexpected difficulties or change. But one thing MY BRILLIANT FRIEND establishes powerfully is the idea the way these two women feel tied to one another by both choice and by circumstance; it’s a sentiment Lenù expresses several times and which Lila implies when she hints at the experience with the dolls. Lenù, by opening the book with that story, confirms that from their encounter with Don Achille on, on their fates are inextricably, willingly tied.
Keep reading
As Olivie mentions, Elena Ferrante is the pseudonym of an author whose gifts manifest in the ability to deeply explore the internal nature of the female experience. Ferrante’s books also offer commentary on the societal and economical expectations of Naples. I have to admit, I wish I had read the Neapolitan Novels sooner, and as I post this, I’m well into book two, The Story of a New Name. I don’t even have the excuse I didn’t have access to the novels as the full set sat on my bookshelf for 1.5 years before I picked them up. Finally, I read The Days of Abandonment and The Lying Life of Adults first (Abandonment on Olivie’s recommendation) last year. Both Abandonment and Lying Life focus on specific points in the protagonists’ lives. In Abandonment, Olga must face and grieve the loss of her marriage and her sense of self, whereas in Lying Life, Giovanna is forced to reconcile the truth of her world differs from her parents. In a sense, both of these works were a warm up for what My Brilliant Friend was going to bring as the series (considered one long novel by the author) shows the long-term affects of the themes and experiences she previously dabbled with. (This isn’t to say the other two works aren’t strong or complete on their own; more so, the experience is different like running a 5K vs. a marathon. Both are races, but the tolls they take on your body differ.)
Lenù and Lila For a book centered around a female friendship, I went in thinking the novel would be skewed due to the single first-person narrative. Ferrante’s mastery of her art shows itself in this element because although we never get a glimpse into Lila’s head, we have just as much understanding about her as we do Lenù. Their friendship begins the moment both girls decide to ascend the staircase to Don Achille’s apartment. The stairs, a symbol of the journey Lenù’s about to start us on, and Don Achille, the evil figure that haunts both their lives in some shape or form throughout the book, cement the foundation of the relationship and display the idea that some people will always be tied together. The girls are of the same age and come from a similar socioeconomic background buried deep within Neapolitan poverty so it’s easily assumed over time, a friendship would be formed. However, it’s important to note this starting point because it shows the ebb and flow of the relationship yet to come. Lenù and Lila each push the other throughout the course of My Brilliant Friend to do better, to be better. Without this union, neither of the girls would have reached their full potential. There’s also a very interesting balance. Olivie touches on this as she describes Lenù and Lila’s beginnings and adolescence: Lenù has a compulsion to be liked by everyone while Lila is disagreeable; Lenù is “good,” and Lila is “bad.” Then later, Lenù aspires to find her own identity both as a writer and outside the Neapolitan neighborhood while Lila accepts a more traditional future sequestered within the same space she’s always known.
Olivie mentioned this commonality of “teams” in the discussion of the Neapolitan Novels. For some reason, this surprises me. Lenù is an unreliable narrator, but her love of and dependence on Lila never strays from the words she writes, even if they appear unflattering on the surface. Instead, her own weakness and jealousy shows its hand. To me, the two girls were equal and forever bonded. I didn’t prefer one over the other and never once thought one was “right” and the other “wrong.” Lenù tells us at the beginning she’s angry Lila disappeared, but more so, that Lila wants to “eliminate the entire life that she had left behind” (23). Lila wants to remove their story, which is ultimately why Lenù decides to tell it. Balance is key after all.
Are you more Lenù and Lila? Initially, when the two girls are introduced as children, I found myself identifying more with Lila. I should have realized this would change. Starting in her childhood, Lenù has a huge focus on wanting to be liked. She recognizes it as a weakness and often compares it to Lila’s no-nonsense attitude. It was here where at the depths of my being I reconciled with my own inner child because very much like Lenù, I clearly remember wanting very much to be liked. As their stories begin to diverge, first with school, and later with varying class statuses and romantic experiences, I found myself more commonly aligned with Lenù. Her thirst for knowledge, her study habits, and her uncomfortable social encounters awakened several moments from my adolescence. However, Lila’s attitude toward romantic relationships and her resolution not to fall in love sung true as well. If I had to average it from the first entry into the Neapolitan Novels, I would say I’m 65% Lenù and 35% Lila. I fully expect this to change the deeper into the series I read. I have a hard time thinking by the end I will be completely like one of the girls versus the other since they are mirror images; you can’t have one without the other, which is exactly the point Ferrante makes.
Education and Maestra Oliviera The concept of education and what it represents is present throughout the novel. There’s an expectation that once children stop passing exams to move into higher classes or when the family’s need becomes too great, education went by the wayside. This is especially true for girls. Maestra Oliviera is an advocate not only for Lenù, but also for Lila. One of the first divisions the girls encounter is when Lenù goes into middle school, but Lila is not offered the same opportunity. As Lenù tells us: “But what could you do, it didn’t enter into his view of the world that she should continue to go to school” (70). Instead, Lila begins spending time at her father’s shoe shop to learn the trade, her thoughts and aspirations set on different things. This doesn’t alter Maestra Oliviera’s want to further Lila’s education. Through Lenù, Lila is challenged to learn Greek, Latin, and literature, meeting with Lenù frequently outside of her school hours. This separation allows Lenù to start establishing her own identity away from Lila as she no longer has her presence for comparison, but as Ferrante shows us, even if Lila is not physically there, mentally, she’s constantly in Lenù’s realm. Each of Lenù’s victories are Lila’s as they constantly collaborate. This academic partnership adds another layer to their friendship, and I found myself enjoying each moment Lenù and Lila would sit with their heads together over their shared interests. There’s a shift in Lila that becomes marked when Lenù asks her to read an article she wrote and plans to submit for publication through Nino. It’s in this moment we fully understand the fleeting questions Lenù constantly asks of Lila’s seeming disregard and carelessness for her own education. Lila knows her path must be different so she wants the best for her friend. Lenù recognizes the sadness in her friend and alters her course of action, trying to be the best, not just for herself but also for Lila.
At what point does Lila become one of “the plebes” for Oliviera? What does Oliviera dismissing Lila as a lost cause mean for Lenù? Ferrante paints a very clear picture of what the societal expectations are for girls like Lenù and Lila: marry young, have children, and raise a family. This isn’t to say one shouldn’t strive for tradition, but Maestra Oliviera acts as a reminder that this is not all their world has to be. They can have more than tradition mandates should they want it. For me, the moment Lila agrees to marry is the moment Maestra Oliviera dismisses her as a lost cause and more so as a “plebe.”
Ferrante contrasts the news of Lila’s engagement with a visit between Maestra Oliviera and Lenù: “The beauty of mind that Cerullo had from childhood didn’t find an outlet, Greco, and it has all ended up in her face, in her breasts, in her thighs, in her ass, places where it soon fades and it will be as if she never had it” (277). For Maestra Oliviera, Lila’s acceptance into the norm of their current-day Naples separates her from ascending to something more than herself. This is still achievable for Lenù, which in turn bothers her. It’s after this moment Lenù starts questioning the relationship between Lila and her intended. She wonders to the reader if the match is right, if there is something she isn’t seeing, and why Lila doesn’t want more. On the other hand, there’s also a sense of relief for Lenù. She knows she’s Maestra Oliviera’s most successful student, but in her mind, it’s only because Lila didn’t have the same opportunity.
Mothers and Daughters Although the focus of the narrative is on the relationship between Lenù and Lila, Ferrante spends a great deal of time showing us the familial relationships of both girls as well as the supporting cast. Lila’s mother, Nunzia, strikes me as the representation of what an Italian mother is supposed to be for the time period. She is submissive to her husband, but will stand quietly to keep the peace for her family. Lenù’s mother, on the other hand, is a force within the novel, even though she is never named. From the early moments we are introduced to her, we can see Lenù’s negative feelings: “My mother always saw evil where, to my great annoyance, it was sooner or later discovered that evil really was, and her crossed eye seemed made purposefully to identify the secret motives of the neighborhood” (59). Lenù wants a life completely opposite of what she views her mother as. The idea of becoming even the slightest bit like her is frightening.
Lenù also notes the power dynamics between her mother and Maestra Oliviera, specifically when decisions must be made for Lenù’s education and later how Lenù spends a summer. Upon first glance, these scenes show the difference in approval and respect Lenù has for both female figures in her life, but upon closer inspection, it also shows how difficult it must have been for Lenù’s mother to know how little her daughter respected her and the amount of negativity she felt toward her. Ultimately, Maestra Oliviera pushed issues into the forefront, but it is Lenù’s mother who approved them all.
Did you have any thoughts on the scene where Lenù’s mother tells her none of the boys of the neighborhood are good enough for her now? Do you agree with Lenù that this has trapped her in some way, never able to leave the neighborhood entirely, but also not one of them? That approval is what drives Lenù’s mother in the scene where Lenù’s superior status is mentioned in comparison to the rest of the boys in their neighborhood. Although Lenù is angry and feeling restrained, she doesn’t understand her mother’s truth. Like Maestra Oliviera, her mother sees a different path for her, something beyond the neighborhood and doesn’t want to watch Lenù waste her potential. Lenù’s lack of understanding in her mother’s intentions is obvious here. Her mother isn’t trying to trap Lenù, but instead, wants to set her free. By restraining Lenù’s physical urges, her mother is keeping Lenù from an unexpected cage. Lenù regards this as the opposite: the restraint is meant to keep her in Naples. However, her recognition of not being “one of them” anymore rings true. Though, Lenù herself is reluctant to admit it. Instead, we see this displayed in her actions when she is given a choice between two social encounters.
Final Thoughts I could talk about My Brilliant Friend for another 2000 words, but for brevity’s sake, I’ll just include some other things here:
I loved the moment when Antonio stands up to Donatello Sarratore with Lenù in tow.
Ferrante spends a lot of time discussing and displaying the normalcy of growing up with violence. There were several moments of relatability.
Lila’s focus on becoming rich alters the people around her, most notably her brother, Rino. This also sets the tone for her character arc during My Brilliant Friend.
I find Enzo’s characterization incredibly interesting from his first appearance to throwing rocks at Lila to the math competition. My favorite moment of his arc is when he defends Lila’s choices, especially as she isn’t there to defend herself.
I do NOT like Nino. Not at all. This might be my new hill.
I did NOT expect the ending to unfold the way it did. NOT AT ALL, but it was so heartbreakingly good.
Ferrante’s books have a way of hitting me unexpectedly. This was no different while reading My Brilliant Friend. It was such a reflective and deeply personal experience, so much so that Ferrante’s become one of my favorite authors and might soon land on my GOAT list. The last time I felt so much while reading a book was the first time I read Pride and Prejudice, which is my favorite book of all time.
S.P.E.L.L. Presents:
SPINNING SILVER by Naomi Novik
The wintry atmosphere and Jewish-inspired folklore of SPINNING SILVER were my motivation for choosing this book, and I am happy to report that my re-read confirmed much of what was enchanting for me about this story on my first read. What I think is so interesting about Jewish fairytales, especially those originating in Eastern Europe (Novik’s work seems to be inspired by Polish folk tales), is how winter itself serves as a villain; in this case, winter personified as the Staryk. The mythologizing of the elements is so compelling—anthropologically it’s as impactful as the setting of THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS, where the harshness of extreme cold determines social customs and cultural rituals for the sake of survival—as is the way the Jewish characters live on the literal fringe of society, nearest to danger. There’s an acute sense of isolation and fear, the judgment of outsiders, that contrasts noticeably with the warmth and “magic,” as Wanda calls it, of prayer and storytelling. It makes the religious and cultural aspects that much more precious, and also that much more endangered.
December’s read obviously intersects with what is usually the chaos of the holiday season, so while this is a very different year than what we’re used to, I’m going to keep this discussion fairly broad on the general presumption that people have other things going on (or are, hopefully, taking a much needed period of rest and relaxation at the end of a wildly nightmarish year). Mostly I’d like to hear your impressions about the book: Who was your favorite character or your favorite storyline? What did you like best in the book and why?
Personally I enjoyed Miryem the most. I find her personality very appealing; this book has one of the strongest and most memorable opening chapters of any books I can think of thanks to her, and I really enjoy a woman who sees something that needs to be done and does it, even when it opens her up to enmity or disdain from others. I stan a boss bitch who won’t take no crap off of nobody! It’s also a very, very creative way to reimagine the Rumpelstiltskin story in a way that interprets the historical role (and ostracization) of Jewish moneylenders. For Romance Reasons I always looked forward to reading the passages between Irina and Mirnatius, which is probably obvious since I gave it the fanfic treatment. (I was like… what if we made this… hornier? And thus Lady Vengeance was born.)
Wanda definitely grew on me a lot this read; I’m not sure why I didn’t appreciate her as much during my first read (maybe it was the simplicity of her narration? intentional, obviously, and pointedly distinct from the other two, which was sometimes necessary; I caught myself having to double back a couple of times to remind myself who was narrating) but Wanda really embodies the “quiet competence” that I enjoy so much about the women in this book. I really like the way each one is sort of… subtly characterized. They’re all cunning in some way, but not in the reductive Strong Female Character™ archetype. It’s nice to watch a woman be resilient and clever and autonomous without having to do so… theatrically. If that makes sense.
Anyway, feel free to share your thoughts on the book! I’m happy to chat about anything you’d like to discuss. I’ll be back for our next read in the new year!
Tags: @aurorarsinistra @arrowsglory @weusedtohavedumberinternettags @sfjall @mallysj @ellejb13 @papiliomachaon @rosesofthesouth @dracomalfxys @chaaaaaice @honeyedorange @peaceisalwaysbeautiful @angelagualtieri @iamascaryhuman @writingaloveaffair. Not every book is of interest to everyone, but if you’d like to be tagged for future S.P.E.L.L. discussions, let me know!
During my academic pursuits, one of the last papers I wrote was on THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, one of Shakespeare’s more controversial plays. I focused on internal and external identities of the characters Antonio (the merchant), Shylock (the Jewish moneylender), and Jessica (Shylock’s daughter). I also took extra care with the role religion played in the foundation of those identities. The treatment of Jewish characters by their society doesn’t completely differ from the play written in the 1590s to Naomi Novik’s SPINNING SILVER (2018). In the novel, the Mandelstams live on the edge of town closest to the danger of the Starik and isolated by their peers both for their profession (moneylenders) and their religion. Told in multiple point-of-views, we are shown and told the “different” nature of the Jewish characters from their extreme caution to their separation (and even at times given a display of contempt). However, Novik contrasts these perceived external “differences” with internal positive qualities. Miryem has a solid strength and sense of justice. Her father has a quiet empathetic and understanding nature, and her mother is full of kindness for those around her. Both because of and despite their treatment, the Mandelstams cultivate these qualities and directly impact the other characters in positive ways, helping to bring about the novel’s conclusion.
Winter Personified Perhaps the most original thing about Novik’s novel is the way winter infuses itself in every aspect of the story. Very topical for the month of December, the setting is cold and desolate with the added difficulties of starvation and death. However, Novik’s winter goes beyond a simple setting. As Olivie mentions, the utter harshness of winter translates into the societal and cultural aspects of the novel, especially for the Jewish characters. The ice and cold are found in Miryem’s character, something her parents express great sadness over. It appears in Wanda’s “magic” as well as Irina’s escape. The Starik requires winter to survive. Winter is a villain, a safe space, a home, and a strength depending upon which perspective we are in. This spills over into our feelings toward winter itself, leaving one common theme: winter affects us all.
Who was your favorite character or your favorite storyline? To no one’s surprise, my favorite character was Miryem. Like Olivie mentions, Miryem takes action and is proactive; she’s not a damsel in distress – she’ll save herself before she allows anyone else to. These are qualities I admire, especially in a female character. I also related to her pragmatic nature and the way her experiences shaped her perceived “coldness.” Sometimes, I think female archetypes of this nature get a bad rep and can come off too unlikeable, but that wasn’t the case for Miryem. How Novik contrasted her attitude toward those who owed debts against the Starik bondsman gave Miryem’s characterization a lot of depth and balance.
As much I liked Miryem’s character, I found myself more interested in Irina’s storyline. Considering my preference on romantic plots, this wasn’t too much of a surprise (I was highly amused by Prince Mirnatius’ perspective). The fantastical element of the mirrors was highly appealing to me. Novik’s tension and dialogue came through the strongest in these scenes.
Wanda’s storyline wasn’t something I disliked; it was more of an indifference. I felt this was more of a supporting narrative arc by the end of the novel in comparison to Miryem’s and Irina’s: essential to the plot and to several character arcs, but not highly significant on its own.
What did you like best in the book and why? I really like the concepts Novik uses in the book from the impact of winter upon all the story elements in equal but different ways to the reimaging of Rumpelstiltskin. There are also a number of themes I appreciated with consideration to the three main female characters. Olivie touches on the quiet strength and cleverness of each, and I agree with her observation whole-heartedly. Miryem, Wanda, and Irina are all uniquely different and show various sides to their shared qualities. The scenes where each woman says and demonstrates her “no” were especially meaningful to me. This is also true of their cleverness. Every time Miryem outwit the Starik, Irina escaped from the prince, and Wanda survived were endearing to me. It also drives home the concept that doing the “right thing” might look very different depending on the perspective it’s coming from.
I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season!
DOWNTON ABBEY | 3.01 — “Episode One” (2012)
you know what gets me about lord of the rings? evil is defeated by people who choose to fight against it without possessing absolute, or even very much, conviction that they can actually win. all the converging story threads that lead to the happy ending are carried out by people who are far, far more convinced that they will fail than that they will succeed, who had only the frailest, most foolish hope, who had blind faith and frequently wavering hearts not peace or ease or certainty.
middle earth isn’t saved because no one faltered or came close to despairing or who sank to their knees in weary defeat. it’s not saved by pride or conviction or even strength. it’s saved because enough people do what they have to do even if they have to do it in the darkness. in the dust. with the ashes of hopelessness and bitterness in their mouths. because enough people took another step. Frodo, Sam, Gandalf, Aragorn, Theoden, Boromir, Faramir, Merry, Pippin. And many don’t. For every hero there is someone who gives into the “reasonableness” of despair—Saruman, Denethor, Grima, even Gollum—but enough. Enough people said “it doesn’t matter if we lose, I will keep fighting” and then they do.
And that GETS me. It is the most hopeful thing about the lord of the rings to me. There is so much that sums up its spirit, so many beautiful quotes and moments, but to me it’s never been the most famous of the quotes about hope and love that hit me hardest but a line from the films. Before the battle for minas tirith, one of the soldiers says “we cannot defeat the armies of Mordor” and Theoden answers “no. but we will meet them in battle nonetheless.”
And I—That is the spirit that leads to the conquering of evil when it comes down to it, when we’re talking about the part played by humanity alone in the fight against evil. Not the conviction you’re going to win, not farsightedness into a perfect future, not perfect inner peace or certainty. But acceptance of the real possibility of defeat, of that defeat being more the reality, the future, of your life than the victory, and then doing the damn thing anyway because goodness is worth fighting for even if you lose.
