did i do it? did i do the meme right?
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did i do it? did i do the meme right?
can't stop thinking about how heterosexuality in frankenstein is continuously characterised as something both enforced externally and incestuous.
victor has been brought up and groomed to marry his cousin—who is essentially his sister—by his own parents, and throughout the novel never proclaims any actual romantic or sexual attraction to her, it's just accepted as a basic fact of his life that he will marry elizabeth; and since his fondness and admiration for her are unquestionable, why shouldn't he?
the creature doesn't seem to make any difference in its feelings towards men and women initially ("Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her [...] his eyes sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I thought him as beautiful as the stranger." ) but only learns from his observation of the family and the books that constitute his introduction to the world that it's a female companion he's supposed to desire, and blackmails victor into making him a sister-wife of his own.
that very project then becomes the pretext for victor to elude his own incestuous predestined marriage and flee into the homo-social union with his best friend henry clerval once again.
his eventual wedding to his sister/cousin is also invariably treated by his parents as a kind of ultimate solution to unhappiness, an unhappiness that is brought into victor's world by his queer desires (to bring forth life like a woman might, to bear a child without a wife) and the subsequent abjection of the consequences of the fulfillment of that desire in a world that cannot hold it, leading to the deep repression and self-loathing that manifests itself physically as the fever that almost consumes him—but does not, solely for the care of his beloved and devoted friend henry.
clerval and walton are also the only characters in the book victor doesn't feel indebted to in some way, and who don't treat his mental illness as some annoying hindrance to their own contentment (maybe a harsh criticism of victor's family, i do think it's obvious they care for him genuinely, but they also push him further into isolation by continuously pressuring him to finally 'be glad' again for their sakes), or make their own happiness dependent on his actions in some way (as the creature does, even if rightfully so).
that perceived debt is also always incestuous in nature. he owes his family cheerfulness as well as—when it comes down to it—sex with his sister, he owes his "son" (and external manifestation of his own repressed queerness) the fulfillment of his sexual desires (even though it's of course in actuality an antidote to his solitude first and foremost, the fact that he is supposed to make him a bride still carries the same sexual undertones). only in his male friendships that are very heavily queer-coded and free from both familial ties and heteronormativity is victor truly free to just...be.
homoerotic love is also at multiple points associated with a deep adoration of the natural world (walton about victor: "Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit, that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures." / victor about clerval: "Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words, and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He was a being formed in the ‘very poetry of nature.’ His wild and enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart. His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature, which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour." ) and becomes therefore itself connotated as natural (as opposed to the heterosexual love that relies on artificial enforcement).
but by externalising and rejecting his own queerness in the form of creating and then immediately abandoning the creature, he tarnishes this refuge, turns it into something both incestuous and heterosexual once again (incestuous because he makes his desire into a son to cut it out of himself, heterosexual because his creation demands a wife of him). when he finally refuses the creature's request, it promises him: "I shall be with you on your wedding night." it really couldn't be made more obvious. "On that night he had determined to consummate his crimes."
victor is also again and again presumed by his family to be tormented because he "might love another", both his father and later elizabeth herself pose this question to him. and in a sense, they're right (if we read victor as being romantially interested in clerval)—but in another sense, more importantly, and through the same queer lense, they're wrong. because they're not asking about love, not really; they are asking about heterosexual love specifically, implicitly, and the cause of his misery is decidedly not that he is in love with a different woman; but something he can't even speak of, something he must keep from the ones closest to him at all costs, which distances him further and further from everyone he cares for.
only when she's dead does victor ever truly yearn for elizabeth, but in death she furthermore becomes almost merged with clerval, both of them unified into that amalgam of loss and grief for what has been taken from him. the fact that his father and his brother wiliam aren't part of this mourning ritual seems to only further validate clerval's position as having been just as much a romantic prospect as elizabeth, who has in her altered state of unavailability now also become a somewhat queered desire for victor.
in the final paragraph of the novel, in its last and only conversation with walton (which arguably serves as a confession), the creature admits to having been so overcome with remorse and pity after having taken clerval from victor that he felt ready to let go of his plans of further revenge—until it was revealed to him that victor was still going forth with his plans to marry elizabeth. this final submission to heterosexual bliss is what seals their fate, what the creature cannot let stand. and in the end, all that is left of victor frankenstein is what he could not let himself love.
Federico García Lorca, from "3 Tragedies; Blood Wedding, Yerma, Bernarda Alta,"
Vicente Huidobro, from The Poet Is a Little God: Creationist Verse (English and Spanish Edition) translated by Jorge García-Góme; “Bay Rum”
Text ID: Those burning flames / Prayer or song
I have been reading more arthurian stories but the thing i’m most obsessed with is Perceval by Chrétien de Troyes.
Perceval is like…. what if you had a medieval knight but he was a stupid teenager with ADHD who is also a mary sue that can kill everyone in a single hit and is the best at being a knight with zero training. He gets scared of the sounds of metal armor and thinks its demons coming after him. He doesn’t know his own name until like 3,000 lines into the poem and even then he’s just guessing what his name is and somehow gets it right. He seems to love his mom and always talks about her but he also saw her faint one time and was just like ‘oh well, that’s probably fine. I’m leaving.’ ..???????
Ive only seen like 5 posts on tumblr about perceval i need everyone to read perceval i am begging you please please please please please please please please please plea-
Online english translation (rhyming): https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/French/DeTroyesPercevalPartI.php
Online pdf of english translation (non-rhyming): https://dl1.cuni.cz/pluginfile.php/1073652/mod_resource/content/1/Chrétien%20de%20TROYES%2C%20Perceval%2C%20The%20story%20of%20the%20grail%3B%20Raffel.pdf
snoopy reads the brothers karamazov!
I'm not well-versed in modern retellings of "Pride and Prejudice" but now I'm curious if there's a single one of them that has made Darcy into a single father.
A shocking fraction of "P&P inspired" stories / character dynamics that I've seen seem to 1) make Darcy into an openly counter-cultural figure (a "bad boy"???) instead of a stiff dad friend type, as though basically all of Austen's male love interests aren't Mr. Responsible (she really said, "RAKES ARE ALL PREDATORY ASSHOLES!!!"), 2) leave out both the responsibilities to young Georgiana and Pemberly as crucial elements basically completely. Darcy is attractive to Elizabeth in part because he's a responsible family man who adores his younger sister, and who is capable of recognizing problems (including within himself and his relationships!) and repairing them with words and action. He makes her want to do the same!
The idea of removing family and professional responsibility from Darcy as a character boggles my mind. This man's world revolves around his commitments to family and friends. Any P&P "retelling" that completely removes the element of Georgiana (in a queerer adaption, Darcy could have a younger trans brother or something! You CAN be creative with Georgie here) is probably wildly missing the core themes of Austen's novel. He's a BIG BROTHER! He was made a FATHER FIGURE very young! It's thematically coherent to adapt this man into a GIRL DAD!!!
Beloved Al-Rassan, the thought came to him in that moment, sharp and unexpected as a blade from beneath a friend's cloak, shall I live to shape your elegy as well?
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
What ought a man honorably to do? To aspire towards? Was it the stillness of that pool—dreamed of, and written about—where only the one beast dared stalk from the dark trees to drink in the moonlight and under the stars? That stillness, that single image, was the touchstone of verse for him. A place out of the wind, for once, where the noise of the world and all the brilliant color—the noise and color he still loved!—might recede and a deceptively simple art be conjured forth.
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
"What I think," said his chancellor, "if you will allow me to pursue a poet's conceit and imagine men as bodies in the heavens, is that we have the two most brilliant comets in the sky here in Ragosa this spring." Badir turned back to look at him. After a moment, he smiled. "And where would you put yourself, old friend, in such a glittering firmament?" And now the chancellor, too, smiled. "That is easy, in truth. I am a moon at your side, my good lord."
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
Jehane was learning to accept that people besides her mother and father might love her, and do certain things because of that. Another hard lesson, oddly enough. She had not been beautiful or particularly endearing as a child; contrary and provocative were closer to truth. Such people didn't discover young how to deal with being loved, she thought. They didn't get enough practice.
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
They'd summoned her to the barracks one night to attend to Ziri. He'd appeared deathly ill when she first saw him: white-faced, vomiting convulsively. It had only been wine, though. Rodrigo's men had taken him to a tavern for the first time. She'd chided them angrily for that, and they'd allowed her to do so, but in truth, Jehane knew they were initiating him into a life that offered so much more than the one he would have had in Orvilla. Would it be a better fate, a happier one? How could a mortal answer that? You touched people's lives, glancingly, and those lives changed forever. That was a hard thing to deal with sometimes.
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
He had been born and raised on a farm in the far north. For him, a year before, Esteren in Valledo had been fearfully imposing. Esteren, he now understood, was a village. King Badir's Ragosa was one of the great cities of Al-Rassan. He had never been in a place where so many people lived and went about their business, and yet, amid the bustle and chaos, the swirling movements, the layers of sound, somehow still a sense of grace hovered—a stringed instrument heard in an archway, a splashing fountain half-glimpsed beyond the flowers of screening trees.
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
Twice now, then. Twice in fifteen years he had murdered the most powerful monarch in the land. A khalif and a king. I am increasingly unlikely to be best remembered, ibn Khairan decided ruefully, entering his home, for my poetry.
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
Behind her, to the west, Alvar saw the white moon low in the sky, as if resting above the long sweep of the plain. It was a strange moment for him; looking back, after, he would say that he grew older during the course of that long night by Fezana, that the doors and windows of an uncomplicated life were opened and the shadowed complexity of things was first made known to him. Not the answers, of course, just the difficulty of the questions.
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.
— Holes, Eileen Myles, from ‘I Must Be Living Twice, New & Selected Poems 1975-2014’
"How do you know our language?" "Soldiers tend to learn bits of many languages." "Not that well, and not Kindath. How do you know it?" "I fell in love once, a long time ago. Best way to learn a language, actually."
— Guy Gavriel Kay, The Lions of Al-Rassan.