Tales retold and made to fly
Sep. 24th, 2006 03:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Ezra Pound (I think it was him... hope so... anyway) said that every story has already been written: the purpose of a good writer is to write it anew. Or similar. Anyway this could very well be fanfic's banner, well-written fanfic, of course,
mistful's fanfic in particular.
I'm thinking of IYHARM, yes, and wasn't that a GREAT re-telling? Actually it was, I wasn't being ironic or anything, it was a superb retelling, I love it. But I'm also thinking of QOM, because to me the retelling of the characters is the retelling of the story.
It seems to me that, no matter what is said about plot, worldbuilding and style - all basic things in writing, it's lovely when they coesist but it can be nice with just two or one of them - the driving force behind storytelling as an art form is characters. When a writer can make her/his characters people, then plot, worldbuilding and style have to follow. I said storytelling as an art form, because the world is peopled by scribblers, some of whom make lots of money, but I'm talking about the GOOD writers here.
All stories are plot-driven by definition: they are, after all, stories. But the good - and excellent - writers write people who, exactly because they are who they are and evolve according to their selves, can't help getting there, wherever it is that the plot needs them to go. So
mistful writes stories about real people who, because they are human, hence complicated and damaged in a myriad of ways, can't help but go where she wants them to go. I'm not presuming to know her particular writing technique, but that's not important to the reader, or even the careful critic.
Reading her stories through time I know without a shadow of doubt that she's growing by leaps and bounds as a writer and that her characters are more and more becoming people, until here, with QOM, there's not a single 'character' talking, acting and walking through her plot. These are real people at the core, so much that – even though her premises are wildly IC – the original characters are but pale shadows of hers.
This is how it should be! we cry, and not because the plot is enthralling – and it is – or thrilling – and it is – or tight and perfectly paced – and, boy, is it! – but because these are people and we want to know what happens to them; we want to know if they will resolve their several conflicts, if they will be able to grow and evolve, if they will perchance kill one another. This is true mastery of the art of writing, this is the core of what literature is all about. And, as if this were not enough – and it IS, but we're greedy, we readers – her multilayered and intense prose scintillates with wit, irony and benevolence. Oh, and coruscates with quotations and allusions of the subtle and unsubtle variety.
And worldbuilding invariably follows. Only in that particular world, with those particular mores, those particular variation of reality and physics and stuff can those particular people make the particular choices that will take them where they are supposed to go.
mistful is using someone else's wordlbuilding, but she mends it with implication, allusion and an occasional shock of start reality. She is, in fact, writing it anew.
She creates a maze of mirrors and reflections of mirrors that sucks us in. We see Draco through Harry's eyes - of course, tight third POV - but, at the same time we see Harry seeing himself reflected in Draco's eyes. We could maybe be kept at a distance by this device, but we aren't, we're in, deep and foundering, just as our little freak and his beloved enemy are: we're looking for ourselves in them, they're looking for themselves in others' eyes... maybe our eyes, the readers' eyes.
This works for every single character, too, not just the protagonists. Look at Narcissa, single-minded loving mother with a core of ruthlessness that should perhaps be chilling - she disregards everyone's safety to ensure her son's - but that's how Harry sees her, or better, needs to see her until... until we see her die through Snape's eyes as heard through Harry's ears. See? By reflecting reflections into reflections - both meaning of reflection apply here - we can solve the puzzle, or go as near to solving other people as we're going to get in real life.
Gaiman - of whom more later - said that sometimes what we don't get explained in a book is more fascinating that what we get explained (let's taken as read that this is periphrasis based on memory). We'll never completely know another - maybe not even ourselves - but all the little mysteries fascinate. I personally like Narcissa in canon, but I'm utterly fascinated by this complex and intelligent heroine. She isn't going to sacrifice herself in a cliché bout of dying for her child, but she does because she really has no other choice than silence. She knows she's dead anyway. She tries, because she wants to live, but at the very end she becomes Antigone, so much bigger than life in silent contempt of her executioners.
Look at Snape caught in ungentle tenderness; at Ginny (whom I cordially detested... okay I still do in canon) caught at the edge between childhood and young maturity; at Hermione who's afraid of coming out of her head, so to speak, and confront her shaky ethics, but who tries so hard to matter; at Ron finally growing up; at Lupin hiding behind a passive aggressive not-snarl... look at them all. The kernel of all they are is in canon, yes, but it's nothing more than a hopeful latency, given meaning by the eagerness and imagination of readers. In
mistful's stories - particularly QOM - the eagerness and imagination of readers is better employed to probe the little mysteries of self and life.
Coming back to Gaiman - yeps, been re-reading Sandman obsessively of late. Needed to ponder on basic things like life, death and personal mythology - I think he said.... ah-HA! Found the correct quote. Here it goes:
I learned that writing could, in and of itself, be beautiful. (He's talking about Delany's Einstein Intersection. If you haven't read it, DO) I learned that sometimes what you do not understand, what remains beyond your grasp in a book, is as magical as what you can take from it. I learned that we have the right, or the obligation, to tell old stories in our own ways, because they are our stories, and they must be told.
He could have said that about QOM, really. There's a quality of writing in there that resonates deep within me, just as Gaiman's writing does. There's a calm fearlessness about farce and tragedy, there's risk taking, but nothing frantic about it. It's true storytelling and I'm celebrating it with this piddly new icon stolen blatantly from The Last Hero by Pterry (ill by Paul Kidby) only this time we'll remember the singer as well as the song.
Thank you Maya.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
I'm thinking of IYHARM, yes, and wasn't that a GREAT re-telling? Actually it was, I wasn't being ironic or anything, it was a superb retelling, I love it. But I'm also thinking of QOM, because to me the retelling of the characters is the retelling of the story.
It seems to me that, no matter what is said about plot, worldbuilding and style - all basic things in writing, it's lovely when they coesist but it can be nice with just two or one of them - the driving force behind storytelling as an art form is characters. When a writer can make her/his characters people, then plot, worldbuilding and style have to follow. I said storytelling as an art form, because the world is peopled by scribblers, some of whom make lots of money, but I'm talking about the GOOD writers here.
All stories are plot-driven by definition: they are, after all, stories. But the good - and excellent - writers write people who, exactly because they are who they are and evolve according to their selves, can't help getting there, wherever it is that the plot needs them to go. So
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Reading her stories through time I know without a shadow of doubt that she's growing by leaps and bounds as a writer and that her characters are more and more becoming people, until here, with QOM, there's not a single 'character' talking, acting and walking through her plot. These are real people at the core, so much that – even though her premises are wildly IC – the original characters are but pale shadows of hers.
This is how it should be! we cry, and not because the plot is enthralling – and it is – or thrilling – and it is – or tight and perfectly paced – and, boy, is it! – but because these are people and we want to know what happens to them; we want to know if they will resolve their several conflicts, if they will be able to grow and evolve, if they will perchance kill one another. This is true mastery of the art of writing, this is the core of what literature is all about. And, as if this were not enough – and it IS, but we're greedy, we readers – her multilayered and intense prose scintillates with wit, irony and benevolence. Oh, and coruscates with quotations and allusions of the subtle and unsubtle variety.
And worldbuilding invariably follows. Only in that particular world, with those particular mores, those particular variation of reality and physics and stuff can those particular people make the particular choices that will take them where they are supposed to go.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
She creates a maze of mirrors and reflections of mirrors that sucks us in. We see Draco through Harry's eyes - of course, tight third POV - but, at the same time we see Harry seeing himself reflected in Draco's eyes. We could maybe be kept at a distance by this device, but we aren't, we're in, deep and foundering, just as our little freak and his beloved enemy are: we're looking for ourselves in them, they're looking for themselves in others' eyes... maybe our eyes, the readers' eyes.
This works for every single character, too, not just the protagonists. Look at Narcissa, single-minded loving mother with a core of ruthlessness that should perhaps be chilling - she disregards everyone's safety to ensure her son's - but that's how Harry sees her, or better, needs to see her until... until we see her die through Snape's eyes as heard through Harry's ears. See? By reflecting reflections into reflections - both meaning of reflection apply here - we can solve the puzzle, or go as near to solving other people as we're going to get in real life.
Gaiman - of whom more later - said that sometimes what we don't get explained in a book is more fascinating that what we get explained (let's taken as read that this is periphrasis based on memory). We'll never completely know another - maybe not even ourselves - but all the little mysteries fascinate. I personally like Narcissa in canon, but I'm utterly fascinated by this complex and intelligent heroine. She isn't going to sacrifice herself in a cliché bout of dying for her child, but she does because she really has no other choice than silence. She knows she's dead anyway. She tries, because she wants to live, but at the very end she becomes Antigone, so much bigger than life in silent contempt of her executioners.
Look at Snape caught in ungentle tenderness; at Ginny (whom I cordially detested... okay I still do in canon) caught at the edge between childhood and young maturity; at Hermione who's afraid of coming out of her head, so to speak, and confront her shaky ethics, but who tries so hard to matter; at Ron finally growing up; at Lupin hiding behind a passive aggressive not-snarl... look at them all. The kernel of all they are is in canon, yes, but it's nothing more than a hopeful latency, given meaning by the eagerness and imagination of readers. In
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Coming back to Gaiman - yeps, been re-reading Sandman obsessively of late. Needed to ponder on basic things like life, death and personal mythology - I think he said.... ah-HA! Found the correct quote. Here it goes:
I learned that writing could, in and of itself, be beautiful. (He's talking about Delany's Einstein Intersection. If you haven't read it, DO) I learned that sometimes what you do not understand, what remains beyond your grasp in a book, is as magical as what you can take from it. I learned that we have the right, or the obligation, to tell old stories in our own ways, because they are our stories, and they must be told.
He could have said that about QOM, really. There's a quality of writing in there that resonates deep within me, just as Gaiman's writing does. There's a calm fearlessness about farce and tragedy, there's risk taking, but nothing frantic about it. It's true storytelling and I'm celebrating it with this piddly new icon stolen blatantly from The Last Hero by Pterry (ill by Paul Kidby) only this time we'll remember the singer as well as the song.
Thank you Maya.
Re: HUGZ!
Date: 2006-10-09 03:06 pm (UTC)I was threatened with a Hawaii shirt once, but what with the Devil looking after his own and all, the threatener was unable to find one. Whew. I was spared the dread touch of (*shudders*) colour. =]
Actually, I suppose I do own at least one shirt with a Golden Retriever on it, so possibly the rule is not quite so absolute as all that. But then, I understand you're a cat person, so maybe that's no real help... =]
Shirts
Date: 2006-10-14 12:46 am (UTC)Love dogs as well, but yea, am a cat person. Possibly am a werecat. Don't know for sure. You can't even begin to imagine what it means not being able to wash and wash for a werecat. 'orrible.
Anyway, loved your essay, if I didn't make that clear enough before. You've got a pellucid quality I can't resist. PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
Re: Shirts
Date: 2006-10-16 10:33 pm (UTC)I'm a bit partial to white myself, actually. I've been thinking of putting together a couple of all-white outfits as a change to my normal, all-black outfits. Just to freak out everyone who's gotten used to seeing me wear only those. I wonder if it'd take them a moment to realise it was me? =]
hello Vanity
We have a friend in common, it seems. Vanity is such a fun vice. And it requires no special equipment other than a mirror. :D
Really, I didn't use to be this way, I'm almost certain. ^_^;; I use to be all intellectual and "looks, pah, such nonsense." But give me a thinner face and longer (and cleaner) hair, and all of a sudden I'm Narcissus. Disturbing. But we're pretty much stuck with our faces for life, so we might as well appreciate them, I guess. =]
Possibly am a werecat.
Really? Very cool. :D I've read about that sort of thing, and it gave me that nice "the world is a very interesting place" feeling. :)
Hmm, you do have a number of cat-like traits. Hating to take orders, inclined to wander far and wide, graceful but with claws should claws be required... yeah, I can see it. :)
Personally, I seem to be... I don't know, human plus. Ten gallons of human in a five-gallon container. There was a time when I felt like some kind of space alien, but eventually I concluded that the reason why I didn't fit in was that most people weren't as human as me. Which really is their problem, when you think about it. ;)
Well, just possibly I feel a certain kinship with chimpanzees. Their entire way of being seems so comfortable. =]
Anyway, loved your essay, if I didn't make that clear enough before. You've got a pellucid quality I can't resist. PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
(*BEAMS*) I'm glad to hear that, and you are most kind to say it. :D