you simply cannot call a 3000 page manuscript one book. I don't care that it doesn't have a physical edition to prove that this many pages will not be held together under one cover. Know your limits, digital edition, 3000 pages is at the very least a tetralogy
westerners will literally never understand qhat its like to grow up reading мефодий буслаев books and thats good to be honest because i think if they knew they would instantly be able to tell
just saw your alamut/ac1 comparision, although i didnt read it because i want to read alamut still - do you recommend it? is it worth it?
I genuinely really like Alamut, but it's not the easiest read, and it's certainly.... written by a Slovene author in 1938, let's say. I'd suggest that, if you're in the US and your library doesn't carry it, you ask them to get a copy of it for you via the Interlibrary Loan system if you're worried about spending money on a book you don't like.
you do have to accept that it is a book written in 1938; it was written as a critique of fascism that would, just a year after the book was written, result in the start of WW2, but it does have some... weird and problematic shit that thankfully aren't major focuses of the book, but are definitely still there:
basically the most problematic parts are the author's treatment of the Black characters. this is mercifully pretty brief; he writes them as intelligent as everyone else, but hypersexual. so yeah. definitely Not Great. there are some other things- there's an explicitly sexual lesbian relationship that is weird precisely because the author (and his wider society at the time) did not recognize lesbian sex as actually being a thing? which... ?????? I personally never knew what to make of that tbh. I am going to throw in a suicide warning as well, though I feel that one should be pretty obvious given the content.
the reasons I like Alamut: while it uses the prevalent myths about the Assassins ie the drugs and paradise trick, it explores what that would actually look like to pull off, and what kind of person Hasan would have to be to do it. and that's the interesting part. it also follows the girls in the garden and what it'd be like for them to live there any have to play a part like this. the focus of the story switches between the garden girls, the fedayeen, and Hasan himself, and the commanders of Alamut to a lesser extent. also, given this book is by a Slovene author in 1938, the history and cultural elements of medieval Persia are shockingly good? not everything, of course, but it's no Aladdin, either.
I can't include too much because I'm going to go to bed, but I've written out the first three paragraphs of the book so maybe you can decide if it's something you want to read.
In mid-spring of the year 1092 a good-sized caravan was wending it sway along the old military trail that leads from Samarkand and Bukhara through northern Khorasan and then meanders through the foothills of the Elburz Mountains. It had left Bukhara as the snow started to melt, and had been underway for several weeks. The drivers brandished their whips, shouting hoarsely at the caravan's draft animals, which were already on the verge of exhaustion. One after the other in a long procession stepped Arabian dromedaries, mules, and two-humped camels from Turkestan, submissively carrying their freight. An armed escort rode short, shaggy horses, glancing in equal measures of boredom and longing at the long chain of mountains that had begun to emerge on the horizon. They were tired of the slow ride and could barely wait to arrive at their destination. They drew closer and closer to the snow-covered cone of Mount Demavend, until it was blocked out by the foothills that absorbed the trail. Fresh mountain air started to blow, reviving the people and livestock by day. But the nights were ice cold, and both escorts and drivers stood around their campfires, grumbling and rubbing their hands.
Fastened between the humps of one of the camels was a small shelter resembling a cage. From time to time a small hand drew the curtain aside from its window, and the face of a frightened little girl looked out. Her large eyes, red from crying, looked at the strangers surrounding her as if seeking an answer to the difficult question that had tormented her for the entire journey: where were they taking her, and what did they plan to do with her? But no one noticed aside from the caravan leader, a stern man of about fifty in a loose Arab cloak and an imposing white turban, who would blink in disapproval when he caught sight of her through the opening. At those moments she would quickly pull the curtain shut and retreat inside the cage. Ever since she had been bought from her master in Bukhara, she had been living in a combination of mortal fear and thrilling curiosity about the fate that was awaiting her.
One day, as they neared the end of their journey, a band of horsemen raced down the hillside to their right and blocked their path. The animals at the head of the caravan stopped on their own. The leader and escort reached for their heavy, curved savers and assumed positions for a charge. A man on a short brown horse separated from the attackers and came close enough to the caravan that his voice was audible. He called out a password and received a response from the caravan leader. The two men galloped towards each other and exchanged courteous greetings, and then the new troop took over leadership. The caravan turned off the trail and headed into the brush, traveling this way until well into the night. Eventually they made camp on the floor of a small valley, from where they could hear the distant drumming of a mountain torrent. They built fires, ate hastily, and then fell asleep like the dead.
You should read "The Order of The Pure Moon Reflected in Water", you're gonna love it. It may not have a plot but the VIBES, the vibes!!!
This is specifically for ppl who read aftg and were like: "Neil is hiding a binder??? Come again?" and then got kinda dissapointed. Well, Zen Cho has your back, my guy! And they make a pretty funny bit out of playing with the readers expectations too.
Come to think of it, it really is insane that my entire country is burning alive and literally no one in the rest of the world cares. Thousands of Indians are dying every day from the heat, it's 45+ degrees in multiple areas, the government couldn't give two fucks, we're getting severe warnings and red alerts, and not a soul outside of South Asia is speaking about it because why would you ever care about brown people
USA folks, that is a consistent temperature range hitting 113°. Death Valley temperatures. In Banda, it hovered between 116°-118° (47°-48° C) for a week straight.
This has been happening all month with little to no international media attention. Here are a few organizations you can check out for resources or to support:
I have been in 45 degree heat, it's not shit to fuck around with, it's absolutely fucking crippling unless you're being actively air conditioned. Any kind of travel is hell and god save you if you work outdoors or can't afford air conditioning.
Have you seen "shooting stars never fly for me" edit? Am i just the last one to the party?? This shit's better than crack (probably?). The edit itself is brilliant, but also how have i never heard this song before. It mogs! (am i using that word right?)
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