#i hope he writes the next great american novel

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[goodluckclove]

I've been meaning to say something. (100 follower hot take)

Hey! Thanks for stopping by. I hope you've had a nice day. Why don't you rest with me for a while? I made some chocolate chip cookies - with shortening instead of butter, so they're very soft and very chocolatey. I made way too many and they aren't my wife's favorite, so I could use some help in eating them.

You're probably a writer, right? Or maybe you think about how you could be. Browse the tags here, or on other social media platforms. Maybe you used to write stories as a kid. I bet those were fun. Teachers might've thought they were impressive, or they dissected them line by line until the words didn't make sense in your head anymore. Either way, if you're here you're probably here for a reason.

(rant alert)

I dipped a toe in online writing communities on and off. My last attempt was forty-five minutes scrolling through the writing hashtag on Youtube Shorts (so TikTok, I guess? I don't know). I didn't like it. I really didn't. The thing that sticks out the strongest in my mind is one particular video where a woman claims that every story needs a second act plot twist.

Huh? Every story? All of them? Why? Since when? Who are you? What qualifications do you have to make a statement like that?

That's the common thread that makes a lot of writing spaces very uncomfortable for me. Successful writers are really only successful in their genre and for the given moment, so they don't have that much objective authority in the craft. And yet I see a lot of people deciding the things that you can't do in writing. Or the things you have to do, and how you have to do them. It was so much of Writeblr at first glance that I almost dipped out once again. I didn't, though, and I'm glad I didn't because now I get to watch some of the next great storytellers from across the world grow and examine and forge their way forward.

No one can teach you how to write. No, that's not true. Teachers teach literacy. Handwriting. Typing maybe - do schools still teach typing? Let me try saying it in a different way - no one, not one single person on this goddamned planet, has the right to tell you how to make a story.

I was supposed to get my MFA in creative writing before my first breakdown. My uncle stayed in the program I was meant to be in, and a few years after I dropped out he graduated. Recently I had the thought to look up his thesis novella, and as I searched I found myself regretting my decision to leave school. If I stayed and got to develop my writing in an actual class, with other writers and a knowledgeable professor, how much further along would I be than where I am right now?

It was bad. His novella was terrible. It was so bad I had a small existential crisis for, like, three days. He spent so much money on years and years of professional education and came out with a truly soulless story that read as if you prompted an AI to write the next Great American Novel. So if you think you need a writing degree to be a legitimate author, it could help connections-wise, but it ultimately won't be the thing that does the work for you.

Not all advice I see online on writing is bad. I find the people who are able to capture the "I" statements of therapy and phrase advice as things that have worked for them, or things that they personally enjoy, to be fine. Some writing advice can spark inspiration.

But if someone is the type of person to boil every story down to troupes and cliches, and then immediately say that every story that uses the trait they don't like is automatically bad for everyone? I'm dropping the kindness for a second - that's trash. That's a trash take and I see far too many writers use it as a reason to stop before they begin.

I don't like whump. I say my reasons in previous posts if you go back through my blog. But you will never hear me say that any story with whump in it is bad, because I don't know that. You might prove me wrong. I am an adult human being and I have the humility to admit that I can like something I didn't expect to. I genuinely enjoy the direction of The Human Centipede (only the first one) and if you cringed just now that probably means you haven't seen it.

There are so many types of books and movies and plays and comics out there. To enjoy a specific genre is fine, to ignore the existence of everything else is a really, really, really odd thing to do. Maybe someone will hate your story because they think everything should be Neil Gaiman, and therefore have no way to understand your epistolary high-Western. You are not the wrong end of that situation just for existing.

And at there is a definite threshold on how many writing tips you can gather before they stop being useful. If you find them interesting, that's one thing. That's fine. But if the culture of creativity online has made you feel like you need to educate yourself on every possible angle before you can write a story, you are actively harming yourself.

Imagine taking the level of structure you put on yourself in that way and putting it on children playing pretend in the backyard. Oh, Susie, don't you know that it's overdone for your Kitsune have dead parents? Xyler, shouldn't you ask someone else before you decide how Spiderman would react to this? It would make no sense and they do not need it. Kids will make a whole world out of nothing and it's the most fucked thing in my heart that at some point they get access to Reddit and dipshits start insisting that's wrong.

They aren't wrong and you aren't either. Your favorite creative influencer can't tell you your story, strangers on the internet can't tell you your story, your teachers and loved ones can't tell you your story. They can influence it, but they can't write it honestly the way you can.

You do that. That's the thing you do.

Man that makes me upset. I can't tell you how to make a story, either. If anyone sends me asks for writing advice the most I'll do is say what I've done before hopping into your DMs and starting a direct conversation. it's so personal to each individual artist, and I'd like to think that the people selling these classes and software and promoting these platforms haven't thought about that before. Otherwise it does feel manipulative. If you have a willingness to practice and imagine and really experiment with the possibilities, you are ready to write your story.

And if it doesn't work? Try again. That's what you do.

Stephen King has written roughly a thousand books and maybe five of them have decent endings. He is unimaginably successful.

I'm rambling now. I think I got that out of my system. I was really worried to say this out of fear of being too weird or somehow reverse-gatekeeping so hard that it circles back into also being a bad thing. I've just spoken to a lot of people who I still think of throughout my day, and I truly ache for them to get past the fear of creation. Because it's worth it. It's worth it and it's fun, even when it's messy and you're tired.

Let it Be just came on. Beatles. I haven't listened to The Beatles in a long time. Feels a little apropos.

I love you, reader. Reader, Writer, Colleague. Take care of yourself. Especially the little you, still sitting there in the backyard of your soul, bathing in the sun with their bare feet in the damp earth.

Consider joining them, maybe.

[tokiwarcube]

Hello, I love your writing and hope you're doing well <3

Could you write hc's about Toki before dethklok got famous? Like in his flashback in Doomstar Requiem? Preferably with a reader that's very supportive of him and always goes to his concerts in shitty venues to cheer him on.

Aww, thank you so much! This week has been incredible — very tiring, but incredible all the same. And it’s been nice to come back to the hotel (or in this case, hang out in the airport) and work on fun requests like these! Below the cut! <3

Fresh out of Norway, Dethklok was nothing short of a dream come true for Toki. He doesn’t believe in God, but this is the closest thing he’s ever felt to divine intervention. That doesn’t even graze the gratefulness he feels for you — he can’t even begin to string together how much you and your unwavering presence mean to him.

He lives for the crowd, whether it be a shitty dive bar or… well, a less shitty dive bar. But frankly, this is his first time ever doing this — he’s gone from complete isolation to performing in front of others basically overnight, and he’d be lying if it wasn’t a little nerve-wracking. Especially when the crowd isn’t feeling it quite yet — there always seems to be a few people at the barrier who are clearly just there for the next band, and it can feel pretty damn crushing. But then he looks over at you, grinning and cheering for him under the neon lights, and suddenly he feels like he could do anything.

(He hates the idea of you tabling for this very reason — because yes you’re pretty, and funny, and you’d probably sell a damn-good amount of merch just by being you… but if he can’t see you in the crowd, he’s not quite the same on stage. And it definitely bleeds through into his performance, and his behavior after the show. He needs his number one fan!)

You’ve gotta keep him from throwing his pick at you every night. You have him — the fans can have a pick or two.

He always links hands with you after shows — hell, he’ll bring you into fan photos if you feel comfortable with it. You might not be on stage, but you're just as much of a band member as he is at this rate.

He begged you to come with them on their first tour — they were only opening for some other band, but still, they’re touring! And despite your better judgement, against the advice of your family and coworkers, love won out… and off you went. And the van was cramped, sure, and the food wasn’t exactly great; and yet, it was the most magical thing you had ever experienced.

(The memories still glimmer sweetly in your mind over a decade later, and even today, he still has all of the photos he took saved.)

It’s fun taking him to weird little American places — doesn’t matter what state you go to, there’s always something new and novel. His eyes light up just about every time you take him somewhere new, and honestly, it never gets old. He always has a myriad of questions, too. Doesn’t matter if its a national landmark or a fast food truck — he will have questions.

He’s particularly interested in zoos and animal sanctuaries, though. The first time he saw one of the big cats, he damn near vibrated out of his skin. You’ve gotta hold his hand pretty tightly so he doesn’t get too close to the leopards and jaguars when they start to chirp and meow in his direction.

He gets a very far-off look in his eyes listening to their stories sometimes, particularly as sanctuaries and rescues, but still, he always asks the keeper if you can just stay a few more minutes to watch them. Hand in yours, sat cross-legged on the ground, with nothing but fondness in his eyes.

(In modern times, you have to keep him from buying a big cat. He doesn’t forget the stories he was told, but he does think he’s different, and it’s a Herculean struggle to remind him otherwise.)

He experiments with fashion quite a bit, with… varying success. Truly, love knows no bounds. However, he does find that he does really like having facial hair after seeing how you smile against his lips when his hair tickles you just a bit.

He genuinely lives for your touch, to the point where he can’t really sleep without you at night anymore! But in the beginning, he was very nervous about initiating on his own. He would eat up anything you threw his way — even brushing by him in the cramped as fuck van is electric, to him.

He always asks you to tell him stories at night — anything will do (he loves to hear you speak), but he likes happy stories about you the most.

He loves holding your hand at night, gazing at you under the fluorescent street lights — they’ve become an odd little piece of your shared life, funnily enough. The dying streetlamp outside of your apartment, the highway lights as the boys drive the van around the country… it’s a simple thing, but their shine has lit up more than just the night for Toki.

[warendenkform]

Marx and Mathematics

“Engels knew nothing, Marx at least knew a little bit” The historian of science Annette Vogt explains how and why the founders of scientific socialism engaged with mathematics

Interview by Nelli Tügel:

originally published in German in ak 688, 13 December 2022

In order to better understand capitalism, Karl Marx taught himself parts of algebra and calculus. Nevertheless, he was not a mathematical genius. The historian of science and mathematician Annette Vogt explains why the editorial history of Marx’s mathematical manuscripts resembles a detective novel, and how he used math to deal with personal crises.

Professor Vogt, is it true that Karl Marx made numerous mathematical errors in Capital?

Annette Vogt: That’s true, there are all kinds of calculation errors. But that’s human. And Marx was also just a human being.

Only a few people know that Marx left behind mathematical manuscripts numbering almost 1000 pages. Why did he engage with mathematics at all?

One reason was that he wanted to predict economic crises; in the case of the first one, he was rather euphoric that capitalism was now collapsing. He then asked himself: are they regular, for example every five or ten years or – as is actually the case – irregular. Marx was friends with the chemist Carl Schorlemmer, who told him that it might be possible with the aid of calculus – more specifically, with differential calculus – to calculate when the next crisis would come. When Marx attended Gymnasium in Germany, differential and integral calculus were not yet part of the curriculum, that was first the case after 1900. So he had no knowledge of it and did what a scientist does…

Pick up a book first?

Exactly. He went to the library and sought out books that he could learn it from. However, as the Dutch-American historian of mathematics Dirk Struik, who was one of the first to write about the manuscripts, accurately put it: for studying capitalism, Marx was in the right country, England; for studying mathematics, he was in the wrong one. He wasn’t familiar with the newest mathematical literature on calculus, because it was all from continental Europe and was not yet available in England. So he studied the textbooks that were available to him.  The mathematical manuscripts consisted largely of excerpts that he created on the basis of his readings, and his notes on them. That’s how Marx taught himself differential calculus.

Were there further reasons for his engagement with mathematics?

Yes. A further reason was – and I understand it quite well, as a mathematician – that it helped him through personal crises. We know this from letters to Engels: when one of his children died young, he did arithmetic in order to distract himself. That might sound incredible to people who are afraid of mathematics, but of course this way of keeping busy can help somebody not to grieve all the time.

What other areas of mathematics did Marx devote himself to?

He also did a little bit of algebra. Algebra consists of equations, from the most simple 2+2=4 to abstract equations up to those – think of the Pythagorean theorem – that can be illustrated geometrically.

That simply had to do with the fact that there are equations in economics.

So his interest was largely pragmatic?

There are two interpretations regarding Marx and mathematics. One – the hagiographic one, making him into a pillar saint – is that Marx was such a universal genius, that he was also a mathematical genius. That’s simply wrong. The other one is: he was a scientist, and as such, he appropriated knowledge that he needed via self-study. He also wrote geological excerpt notebooks – but luckily, it never occurs to a geologist to claim that Marx was a great geologist. (laughs)

With regard to the editorial history of the excerpt notebooks, the hagiographical element plays a role, however: those who wanted to publish the mathematical manuscripts were disappointed by their content.

Because they didn’t find in them the genius they were hoping for?

Exactly. However, his notes are nonetheless significant, simply because they show us the areas he was concerned with, and because they help us to understand and reconstruct his thought. However, Marx can be a role model for everyone who is afraid of math: there’s no reason for that, anyone can learn it.

In your entry on the manuscripts in the Historisch-kritisches Wörterbuch des Marxismus, you write: “his notes on the history of ‘infintesimal calculus’, that is, of differential and integral calculus, have a charm of their own.” What did he write?

He studied textbooks – for example those of the French mathematicians Lagrange or Cauchy – and attempted to understand what the crux of differential calculus is. One can actually see this quite nicely when looking at its historical development and asking why which thing was done at what time. For example that it started with physics, because people wanted to calculate the speed of something. Well, that’s exactly what Marx did, he chose a historical approach, and asked: why does Lagrange take this step, why does he examine that function, why didn’t somebody else do that – these notes are simply interesting for historians of mathematics. He did that completely correctly, he understood the core of the matter.

What do you know about the period of time in which he concerned himself with that?

There were three phases in which notes were made, each in the British Museum Library. Using the borrowing slips, it was exactly reconstructed when he read which books there, that’s how we know he wasn’t familiar with the most modern literature. He knew French, that helped him to read Lagrange and Cauchy in the original.

To what extend did his concern with mathematics have an influence on Engels’ work?

While Engels was writing Dialectics of Nature, Marx – we know this from letters – had told him a bit about the history of mathematics. I suspect that Engels for that reason also therefore thought that Marx was a talented mathematician, since Engels didn’t know anything about math and Marx at least knew a little bit. Thanks are due to Engels for the fact that the mathematical manuscripts were preserved after Marx’s death. He considered them important. Marx never intended to publish them; they were working material.

Even today, the manuscripts are – despite Engels’ intention – only partially published. Why?

After the victory of the October Revolution, the Marx-Engels-Institut was founded in Moscow, later the Marx-Engels-Lenin-Institut, and charged with the task of publishing a Marx-Engels-Gesamtausgabe, the MEGA I. The father of this edition was David Borisovich Ryazanov, who later became, along with many other members of the Institut, a victim of Stalin’s persecution. The project of the MEGA I was interrupted. After 1945, the MEGA II began publication, later the project of MEGA III was begun with the participation of the Berlin-Brandenburg Academy of Sciences and Humanities, the International Institute of Social History Amsterdam, and collaborators from Moscow. It is not yet completed, and within the framework of MEGA III, the mathematical manuscripts are also supposed to be published completely.

However, there is a volume with part of the manuscripts: in 1968 a special edition was published, which until today is the basis for all engagement with the manuscripts, including the English and French translations and the – strongly abridged – German edition.

Who was responsible for this edition?

It goes back to work by the mathematician and specialist for logic, Sofia Yanovskaya, and Konstantin Rybnikov, who was a professor of history of mathematics at Lomosonov University in Moscow. However, they “forgot to mention” – in scare quotes – the work of Ernst Kolman, a Czech-Soviet Comintern functionary who lectured and published articles on the mathematical manuscripts at international conferences from 1932 on. In 1968, he distanced himself from Soviet leadership due to the Prague Spring, that’s why he isn’t named in Yanovskaya and Rybnikov’s edition. When I first dealt with this in the 1980s and noticed it, I thought: that’s really unfair.

And it is! Yes. But here’s the exciting part. I then found out: Kolman himself had deliberately covered up who had been the person commissioned by Riazanov in the 1920s to prepare the mathematical manuscripts for publication in the MEGA I: the mathematician and political author Emil Julius Gumbel. Gumbel was a co-founder of the modern statistics of extreme values, which are used to calculate extreme events, such as the Corona pandemic. Gumble had basically finished editing the manuscripts, at the end of the 1920s he read the galley proofs, but the publication never happened: work on the MEGA fell victim to the repression under Stalin. Gumbel was later driven from Germany by the Nazis; he worked in Paris and Lyon, and later in American exile.

You see, in a certain way it’s tragic: over the decades, almost a hundred years, a few people have already worked on the editing of these mathematical manuscripts, and many sad stories are involved. If I were a writer of crime novels, I’d write a book about it and call it “The Curse of the Manuscripts.” Annette Vogt has a degree in mathematics and a doctorate in the history of mathematics. From 1994 to 2018, she was a research scholar at the Max-Planck-Institut für Wissenschaftsgeschichte. Since 1997 she has taught at the Humboldt University in Berlin, and since 2014 she has been an honorary professor of the economics faculty of the HU. Among other things, she is co-author of a traveling exhibition on the life and work of Emil J. Gumbels.

Nelli Tügel is an editor at ak.

[mcu-multiverse-order-review]

X-Men: The Animated Series - Season 1 (1992-1993)

Ok, so I just finished watching Season 1 of the X-Men and honestly, it holds up well. Like, really well. Disturbingly well. The show is really good at portraying the struggles of oppressed groups and the bullshit bigots throw at them. This is very prevalent in the Sentinel storyline, which is the main story arc of the season.

Honestly, I enjoyed it. Like, yeah, there were a few moments that I wasn’t vibing with, as a whole I can confidently say it was good. I am very excited to jump into Season 2.

As usual my live reactions (? I guess. I mean, I write these as I’m watching. What do you call a text version of a reaction?) are below the cut. Gimme like a couple weeks to watch Season 2. 

Episode 1 - “Night of the Sentinels - Part 1”

Ok, so as our introduction to the world of the X-Men, I thought that was alright. Honestly thought we’d spend more time with Jubilee to flesh out the world a bit more, but eh, I’m too bothered. Certainly got more outta this 20 minute episode than any of 60s Spider-Man 20 minute episodes, this actually had decent action and a plot. But of course it comes with a level of 90s edge, which isn’t my particular vibe but I don’t hate it. I’d honestly say my biggest gripe with this episode is it was quantity over quality, it introduced pretty much the entire main team, but didn’t really do a lot in terms of characterisation. Not to say that it didn’t do any, every character is very much in character this episode, it just felt a little shallow. I expect this to be remedied by the end of the season.

Characters introduced:

Jubilee / Jubilation Lee

My sheer lack of X-Men is about to come through. I have next to no idea who this is. I’d vaguely heard of her before, but as far as I’m aware she isn’t in the Fox films, so I’m just not familiar. Which is fine, because it allows me to get to know her as the show continues, which is what a show is supposed to do with its characters. Anyway, I think her powers are weirdly vague and not really explained, but you kinda get the jist of them after a bit.

Sentinels

I was not expecting Sentinels right off the bat, but they do create an immediate threatening and domineering presence. So I checked the Marvel wiki and apparently these specific Sentinels are the Mk IV variants, I think that’s what they are in Earth-616, as it seems like they’re something new in this continuity.

Rogue / Anna Marie

So I’m vaguely aware of the Ms. Marvel situation in this show, which leads me to wonder if she has flight and super strength in the comics? Cause she doesn’t in the films, at least I don’t think she does. It’s been awhile since I’ve watched them.

Storm / Ororo Munroe

As Shakespearian as ever, Storm is here. She honestly raises the question for me, are there actual people that talk like her? Like, seriously her dialogue would fit in a Dickens novel.

Gambit / Remy LeBeau

“wooimbouttamakeanameformyselfere”

Cyclops / Scott Summers

I have nothing to say about Cyclops. He’s just kinda here. He’s a bit boring. I hope he does something later.

Beast / Henry "Hank" McCoy

Another case of “do people actually talk like this?” Like who the fuck quotes books and shit mid conversation? “Teri, you quote vines on a daily basis.” Touché

Morph

So going into this, the only shapeshifter mutant I knew about was Mystique, so finding out about Morph was a surprise. I actually did a bit of digging around them. Found a few things: Originally they were supposed to be another guy, but the show runners didn’t wanna kill off like the only Native American from the comics, so he got swapped out for another guy, called Changeling, but they couldn’t use that name because Beast Boy was using that name at the time, and the show runners didn’t wanna catch heat from DC, so settled on an original character, Morph. Also, it should be noted that apparently in X-Men ‘97 Morph is revealed to be non-binary, which is great and if anyone has a problem with this fact I invite you to go fuck yourself.

Professor Charles Xavier

I don’t really have much to say about Xavier other than he has some weird eyebrows, and I don’t much care for his hover chair. Like, what’s wrong with having a normal wheelchair Charlie? You think you’re better than everyone? Prick. For sake of clarity, this is a joke. I actually have no strong opinions on the chair. That’s a lie, I think it’s an ugly colour. 

Jean Grey

She sure does appear in this episode. That is all I can say about Jean Grey. I know fuck-all about this woman.

Wolverine / James "Logan" Howlett

Logan is as aggressive as I expected him to be. So this is fine.

Henry Gyrich

Another guy that I know next to nothing about. I honestly thought he was Trask, and I am apparently wrong, so there you go. He seems like a slimy git.

Episode 2 - “Night of the Sentinels - Part 2”

Oh no, I can’t believe Morph died, who could’ve ever seen this coming.

I didn’t mention in the last episode that the mutants are pretty much a stand-in for every oppressed group in modern society. I never used to fully understand it, until watching this and being part of the LGBT+. It hits very close to home. The idea that your own government hates you, wants you dead for something you have literally no control over. It’s not fun. Seriously, try being trans in the UK, it’s bullshit. Granted I know there are much worse places, but I’m just talking from personal experience. And also, being trans doesn’t give me random powerful abilities, it would be great if it did. Point being, mutants are very on the nose about what they represent in the lens of the real world, you could try to argue this level of social science has no place in a children's show, but I would argue that this is the perfect place to teach children that sometimes are different, and that’s ok.

At bare minimum this kinda plot leads to some truly hateable villains, which would be funny if it weren’t realistic.

Onto the actual contents of the episode, it’s pretty good. Characterisation is pretty much on point, dialogue is aggressively 90s, and the non-mutant characters are mostly despicable.

Characters Introduced:

Bolivar Trask

That ain’t Peter Dinklage, what kinda bullshit you pulling here?!

Episode 3 - “Enter Magneto”

If George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” were a picture book, I still don’t think the guards watching Beast would understand it.

Anyway, hi Erik, nice to see you, glad you could drop in.

Something I noticed is certain scenes with flashing imagery seem extremely slowed down. I presume this was a decision by Disney for the Disney+ version, as modern rules regarding epilepsy are a lot stricter than they were in the 90s.

Not gonna, the anti-mutant protest outside the courtroom and the cunts in the courtroom are so frustratingly realistic. Like, seriously, what the fuck do they think they’re gonna achieve? That if they say “no more mutants” hard enough Hank will lose all his fur? Of course they don’t think that. This show in 3 episodes has done a very, very good job at showing how bigotry works. I know it gets more extreme as the show goes on, but as far as I’m aware, at no point does it become unrealistic. This show came out in ‘92, everything on display is still relevant in 2024. That should horrify you. Or piss you off depending on who you are as a person.

Onto something lighter, can we appreciate Wolverine’s sheer disdain for Sabretooth. It’s great.

Also since when could Xavier transfer information from Cerebro to X-Men on the field? Specifically, how did Storm insta-learn how to shut off nukes? Deus-ex my arsehole.

Character Introductions:

Magneto / Erik Magnus Lehnsherr

Here we finally have Magneto. Genuinely as I’ve got older, I’ve understood his entire deal so much more, and like, yeah, he’s a villain, he’s a prick that can and will kill anyone in his path, but he’s not completely wrong.  Again, I do not think he’s in the right, but he is also someone that has been scared by the worst of humanity. His anger is justified, and ultimate goal of mutant freedom is good, but the way he plans to achieve that goal is fucked. I think it’s a really good detail that Erik sounds and looks genuinely hurt when the X-Men go against him, cause he actually believes he is doing the right thing. So, round of applause for a complex villain. Hooray!

Sabretooth / Graydon Creed, Sr.

Diego is my least favourite of the Ice Age herd, I think he’s a bit of a dickhead… Wrong sabretooth, Teri. Graydon Creed is definitely a guy with a very hateable face. All I really know about him is that he’s a cunt that’s involved in Wolverine’s backstory. I’m sure this will be explored further as the series progresses.

Episode 4 - “Deadly Reunions”

HIM! WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS WADE?!

So this episode establishes Storm’s claustrophobia and Rogue’s power absorption. Cool.

“...you wish me to wage war on six billion humans?” Oh. 3 decades. All it took was 3 decades to add another two billion to the human population. This has nothing to do with the episode really, it’s just that fact only just sank in with me. I’ve got nothing to add, just bloody hell, these are some scary numbers.

Jesus Christ Xavier, the fuck man? Weaponizing war trauma to beat Magneto? I mean, I get why he did it, but like, nah I ain’t about that.

“Right, and I’m the queen of England.” Honestly, Jubilee would be a much better queen of England than our useless king.

So, how the fuck did Sabretooth actually manage to wound Wolverine? Like, surely his healing factor would just fix him up real quick?

Character Introductions:

Senator Robert Kelly

Finally in the flesh, the king bigot. Motherfucker pretty much says he wants to set up concentration camps for mutants. As if the metaphors couldn’t be anymore on the nose.

Episode 5 - “Captive Hearts”

I do quite like how Storm’s claustrophobia is a recurring problem, it actually adds at least a bit of depth to her character.

Not gonna lie, I’m fond of the Wolverine pining for Jean bullshit. 

Is this episodes plot just Callisto getting pissy that Scott won’t fuck her?

Also can we just talk about how creepy Wolverine gets when chasing Callisto, like I’m not here for that. It’s not good.

Anyway Storm and Callisto having a lightsaber duel was pretty cool.

Character Introductions:

The Morlocks

Ok, so yes I’m grouping a lot of characters together here, but honestly I know so little about them I don’t have anything interesting to say. Before watching this I had never even heard of them, with the sole expectation of Leech, because I’m pretty sure he appears in one of the Fox films. Anyway, according to Marvel Wiki, here's all the named Morlocks: Leech, Sunder, Erg, Plague, Masque, Tar Baby, Annalee, Callisto, Tommy, Ape, Scaleface, & Glow Worm.

Episode 6 - “Cold Vengeance”

Oh no, Wolverine threw a tantrum and left, who could have ever seen coming.

Genuine question, how much of Canada is an ice cap?

Is Sabretooth wearing a skintight suit, or is he butt naked?

Can we just talk about the fact that both Storm and Jubilee wear appropriate casual attire, but Gambit’s still in his combat attire.

How did Sabretooth manage to catch and tie up the entire village? Like, surely someone could have escaped? Or more likely, wouldn’t he have just killed them all? Like, he’s a murderous psychopath, I’m surprised he could even be bothered to set bombs.

Ooo, looky the Sentinels are back.

Episode 7 - “Slave Island”

One of the antagonists of this episode is some cunt who calls himself “The Leader”, he’s not the actual Leader (Samuel Sterns), so I ain’t including him in the character introductions.

Why is Gambit weirdly out of character this episode? Like, he's much more of a prick than usual here.

Why is Cable here? How is Cable here? What time travel shenanigans were required for him to be here?

Character Introductions:

Cable / Nathan Summers

But seriously, why is Cable here? Not that I don’t appreciate him being here, I just kinda want an explanation. Especially since the episode seems to indicate that he’s not from the future, but I’m fully aware later seasons will contradict that. Maybe I’m missing something and this’ll be explained later.

Mastermold

That’s a big arse Sentinel.

Cameron Hodge

So, technically this guy first appears in Episode 3 as Beast’s lawyer, but he had no impact on the story and he was being pro-mutant, which is out of character.

Blob / Frederick Dukes | Sunfire / Shiro Yoshida | Feral / Maria Callasantos

These guys have speaking roles in the episode, but I honestly have nothing to say about them.

Cameo Appearances from Mystique, Pyro, Rictor, Avalanche, Thunderbird, Northstar, Aurora, Caliban, & Domino.

Episode 8 - “The Unstoppable Juggernaut”

Not gonna lie, I like how the Fox films actually show there being students at the X-Mansion, cos honestly without them, the place looks abandoned.

I really feel bad for Colossus, guys just doing a job and gets attacked by a group of bigots and then Wolverine & Jubilee. Like, seriously, when he says “What is it with these Americans? They are very strange people.” I’m inclined to agree with the guy (this is ignoring the fact that Logan is Canadian). Then he gets arrested for a robbery he doesn’t commit. Bloody hell, this man can’t catch a break. Thankfully his company in prison was Beast. The man may talk like an academic but at least he’s friendly.

What does Juggernaut need money for? Can’t he just take literally anything he wants? He’s the Juggernaut, who the fuck is stop him?

Anyway, I think he is fucking hilarious. Legitimately the funniest character the show has introduced.

I’m sure Juggernaut vs. Colossus is a fight I’m never gonna see again…

Ok, what we’ve learnt is that if Rogue absorbs Juggernaut’s powers, she breaks. Interesting.

And at the end he just walks away, because of course he does. Not like they can beat him any other way.

Characters Introduced:

Colossus / Piotr Rasputin

Can I just say that I think Colossus is lovely. Like, I think he’s a very good example of what a man should be. Strong, friendly, a little bit dumb. A himbo by true definition. I may be crushing on a fictional character. 

Juggernaut / Cain Marko

“Don't you know who I am? I'm the Juggernaut, bitch!”

Episode 9 - “The Cure”

More Cable shenanigans. I’m sure he’s actually from the future this time.

Oh look Logan being a twat and antagonising most of the team, I’m sure that’ll go really well for him.

Damn, Gambit really out here trying to push himself onto Rogue, despite knowing she could kill him just by touch. What a knob.

Everytime Cable asks for Dr. Adler, I’m just reminded of this moment from Dragon Ball Z Abridged.

That is all.

Character Introductions:

Angel / Warren Worthington III

This millionaire in the colour blue is available for pre-order. Call 1800-APOCALYPSE now!

Moira MacTaggert

As far as I’m aware she’s important to the X-Men mythos, but I personally know fuck all about her. 

Mystique / Raven Darkhölme

Ah, Mystique, the psychotic bitch with the power to make all trans people jealous. Infuriating.

Pyro / St. John Allerdyce

For some reason, they decided he needed English instead of Australian in this continuity.

Avalanche / Dominikos Petrakis

Ok, so his powers are like, seismic energy right? It just bothers me that a guy named Avalanche doesn’t have ice powers.

Apocalypse / En Sabah Nur

Not gonna lie, I’m kinda surprised to see Apocalypse here. I honestly expected him to be, like, ‘the big bad’ at the end of the series.

Episode 10 - “Come the Apocalypse”

Ok, so lemme get this straight, Warren wants a cure for his mutation because he considers himself a freak, yet the fucker wears a full spandex superhero suit that incorporates his wings. If you hate your wings, why would you own a bright red and white costume? Make yourself more visible? Dumbarse.

“Death, the winged avenger”, 🤓☝️erm ackshually, Apocalypse, Archangel isn’t an Avenger.

And then they all fuck off. Kinda anticlimactic, ngl.

Character Introductions:

Archangel / Warren Worthington III

This millionaire is now available in the colour. To get yours call 1800-HORSEMANofDEATH now! “Didn’t you already include Worthington here?” Yeah, but this time he’s blue… and slightly insane.

Episode 11 - “Days of Future Past - Part 1”

Wow, it really takes no time at all for Bishop to flip teams.

Ok, so what causes Bishop’s amnesia? Was it Nimrod reaching for him? I don't think this is ever explained.

Oh, hi Frank. Good to you see. Going by the wrong name I see.

More questions, why’s Bishop’s time thingamajig not working properly?

I’m sorry, but what the fuck? Bro just drove a bus straight through the X-Mansion XD.

Ok, I like Wolverine’s constant mocking of Bishop. The man deserves it, he’s a bit of a stuck up prick.

… Oh my god. I just made a horrifying realisation.

Silver is just Bishop’s hedgehog-sona.

Gambit finally shows back up and Bishop’s immediate first thought is to shoot the bastard. Don’t worry man, it happens to all of us. I too murder the first frenchman I see when sent on important missions.

Characters Introduced:

Lucas Bishop

“It’s no use!” Bishop is the kinda guy to shoot first, ask questions never.

Forge

He is here. I don’t actually have any idea who he is.

Nimrod

This is a really dumb name for something that’s supposed to be threatening.

Episode 12 - “Days of Future past - Part 2”

Jesus, Jubilee, what’s your beef with tattoos? I mean, they’re not really my vibe, but there’s no reason to call Bishop a freak. (We’re just gonna ignore that the guy shot Gambit and Rogue, that ain't important.)

Genuinely, Logan’s been pretty funny these last few episodes.

So, is Magneto not the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants in this continuity? Interesting.

Again with the protesting? What the fuck do they hope to achieve? Fuck me, bigots are really fucking dumb.

Loving Blob’s Hawaiian shirt, tho.

Speaking of, how does Blob’s powers work? Like, is he just impervious to damage by sheer fat? If so, that is both really gross, but really cool.

“This kid’s crying. Do something” before shoving the child into Jubilee. Honestly, same, Logan. I too don’t wanna deal with crying children.

Mystique is just the queen of gaslighting and manipulation. Especially with Rogue.

I quite like that the whole assassinate Senator Kelly plot was Apocalypse’s plan, keeps him lurking in the background like the big bad he ought to be.

Characters Introduced:

Blob / Frederick Dukes

Technically, Blob made his first appearance in Episode 7, but this is his first appearance of actual significance.

Episode 13 - “The Final Decision”

Oh look, the bigots have resorted to rioting cause they’ve decided a group of people are responsible for shit only a few have done. 😒Where have I seen that before? 

Ok, so a few things. One, how the fuck did Mastermold achieve sentience? Two, why is its plot effectively just to create the cybermen from Doctor Who?

Oh, hello Ghost Rider, fancy seeing you here.

“Stop him gently, Storm.” “As gentle as the falling snow.” She then proceeds to almost kill Gyrich by making him crash into a tree. Good job, Storm.

This is the first thing I thought of when the X-Men were debating on if it’s worth saving Senator Kelly with Gambit reluctant to join.

“You're all fools... Heroic fools.” I literally could not agree more Erik. “The brave are always the first to die.” and that is just fucking cold. Not gonna lie, I fucking love Magneto in this show.

Thinking about it, why do the sentinels even bother discussing what they are doing? Like shouldn’t they all be talking to each other through some kinda network? I feel like that would’ve made them more threatening.

“What is that object? It appears to be the ace of spades.” Like, seriously, how are these guys a serious threat?

“Did you think I would let you die alone, Xavier?” Aw, Erik does care.

“Mutants are human. Therefore, humans must be protected from themselves.” Ok, so Mastermold is based. Still an evil prick, but at least it ain’t a bigot.

Ok, so with Scott and Jean’s proposal scene, why does she jump straight to talking about kids? Like, that’s a whole new fucking conversation ma’am.

Oooo, how very Sinister of an ending.

[skydigiblogs]

sky and co's seeker thoughts (ch 2)

ough, okay, quick thoughts on chapter 2. will try to be brief but i'll likely elaborate on these at a later point once i finish the whole novel (which, yeah, i am still gonna force myself through even though i am disliking it; i did the same for next, and it'll keep me occupied at work lmao)

so, first thing's first: i really do not like the worldbuilding of seekers. there's a lot going on that makes me very uncomfortable. that is:

everything to do with nation x. introducing it and describing it only through its low GDP, state-sponsored terrorism, and dictator, is uh. hm. it just doesn't sit right with me to strip a nation down to strictly these things, because unfortunately even if you call it "nation x," those characteristics have real world geopolitical connotations. to put it lightly, guys that feels a bit racist of you.

following on that, uh, hey, you know what also doesn't look great? SoC is introduced as "A militant organization that is considered to be the right wing of the code cracking team." SoC is described as a terrorist group itself (and i genuinely can't tell if this is the writer trying to write it so that this is supposed to be slanderous).

and one of their top execs is also the only person of color we have in the novel. right, right, cool, um. hey. like i love marvin's characterization so far dgmr, he is an actual person, but i really hope seekers tries to do anything to counter the fact it literally described SoC as a right wing, terrorist group??

final worldbuilding note: i don't like the fact that seekers hinges on us believing that the fuckin metaverse took off enough that there's a crypto rivaling the USD. this is the only worldbuilding note i am willing to let slide, since it is, at the end of the day, in service of giving us more of a reason why digimon can affect the real world at all (since, afaik, digimon can't realize in the real world, only hololize). other series like CS and GG did it just fine without this shit but i will let it slide for now. i may not be so kind on it in the inevitable essay about the whole thing.

i fucking hate sad white boy (leon). just straight up thumbs down i hate everything about him and how he is used narratively. this is because he is described as a blonde, blue eyed man with a tragic past whose fit physique is thanks to him working out to bury that "weakness" (his trauma). he has a savior complex and is an american and god holy fucking shit i hate him.

reason why i hate sad white boy number 2: sad white boy in chapter 2 is, by the end of it, almost explicitly meant to represent an ideal of his that is in conflict with eiji. that's to say, sad white boy is "justice," and eiji is "freedom." this is practically handed to us in chapter 2-9. i am aware that takemikazuchi mode exists so i know obviously at some point these two have to make amends, but seeing how chapter 2 ended with eiji crying over sad white boy martyring himself to save him (we'll get back to THAT in a sec), implying that he would even consider relenting his idea of "freedom" for sad white boy is. hm.

reason 3: following on that last point, sad white boy is by definition privileged. seekers isn't hesitant to point this out, which i do like! what i don't like, however, is that them doing so feels hollow after sad white boy's martyring at the end of chapter 2. this is especially so thanks to the fact that it's also coming after loogarmon's dark digivolution, which, in the text, feels like the narrative trying to condemn eiji for his resentment towards leon (something which, for a kid like eiji who has lost so fucking much makes sense!).

(side note: i know in general digimon has a habit of using dark digivolution as a way of like, condemning certain emotions. i would love to unpack that in a longer essay, to be honest.)

i love eiji though. dumb little shit.

still not sure what the narrative wants me to think about the police though. by the end of it i'm probably going to have a lot of notes about it. certainly feels sour on the reading palate considering what police actually do though. yesterday i mentioned how much i hated the narrative putting a line about colonialism right next to a scene that, at least imo, felt like it was trying to paint the digipol as the good guys. like, irl, cops function as an extension of colonialism, so it just. idk.

tl;dr: savers i miss you. savers please.

(for context: i started my rewatch of savers because i wanted to see how DATS was treated in terms of portraying police. savers pleasantly surprised me considering it quite explicitly showed that the government can and will enable genocidal behavior. like, kurata wasn't a "bad apple," he was enabled by the impatience of the japanese government and a LOT OF TROOPS.)

(also savers did the privileged character clashing with the more hot-headed/loose main character thing way better than my experience is feeling at the end of chapter 2 with eiji and sad white boy.)

[firedragon1321]

The Semicolon Rant

I realized I fucking hate semicolons.

I hate them more than any other form of punctuation. The period, exclamation mark, and question mark are a classic trio. The comma? A little difficult, but still good. Dashes are great- even preferred. The ellipsis? He is my horribly neglected lover, reunited with me after ages of cringe kept him at bay. Even the normal old colon has its place. I like lists, and she likes lists. It works out.

Every piece of punctuation has a place. Every one. Except the goddamn semicolon.

It started with people sprinkling them in "for flavor" in bad fanfiction. Maybe to sound more serious or whatever whatever. Like, you are not writing the next great American novel. That is 1k Sora/Riku Kingdom Hearts smut. Over the years, my opinion on smut became more complex than this. But that is not the topic of this rant.

So semicolons. No-one uses them right, and even I do not understand them. They are the wannabe eldritch gods of punctuation. Stare them in the eye, and you lose all comprehension. All that matters is they're fancy. "Wow! A type of punctuation I didn't learn about in grade school!" Yeah, great, now stop putting them everywhere you useless lump of mud.

Semicolons do have a technical use. They're apparently used as substitute periods for linked ideas. I.e.- "I saw an owl; he was eating a mouse.". That is apparently correct grammar. But it burns my retinas like I'm two inches from the surface of the sun. I long for the cooling release of a period. It would be a ladder out of the absolute hell I have created just to show an example.

I couldn't even take notes for my editing class like a normal person. My notes say "fuck semicolons" in two distinct locations. Because I fucking hate them that much. Even when they should be used, even when it's okay, they wound me like tiny daggers. They probably do it with that little comma they got floating under them for funsies.

Semicolons are like that one guy who thinks he's at a fancy party all the time. You aren't hosting a fancy party. You catered from the local pizzeria. It's in your basement. Everyone else has a t-shirt and jeans. And then in comes the fucking semicolon like it's a formal affair.

He's got a fancy coat- freshly pressed- and nice clean pants. Maybe a top hat. It's a borderline tuxedo. He looks dashing. Perhaps too dashing. Everyone else feels disgustingly underdressed. And then you look closer and see the hand-stitches in the jacket. The snot on his handkerchief. One shoe is a little less polished than the other. Maybe- if you wait long enough- you'll spot the tag from Walmart still stuck to the back of his pants.

He's a liar. A pretender. A snake who wants legs. He thinks he's worth a million bucks, but he's barely worth a million pennies. He is nothing and he knows it. So he wraps it in layers of artificial luxury, hoping that will justify his miserable blink of existence. Most return to dust only after death. He is already dust.

And that's why I hate semicolons.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe

5/5. Releases 1/24/2023.

For when you're vibing with... Enemies to lovers, duke in the streets/freak in the sheets, Sagittarius-coded heroines, rough sex, and lines so romantic they'll make your heart grow three sizes.

Once upon a time, there was a romance series, and it was a great romance series (one of my favorites, easily). And in the first book, The Heiress Hunt, you got the rare legitimately compelling friends to lovers moment--but who stood between the friends (who became lovers)? The hot, perfectly coiffed, gentlemanly Duke of Lockwood (Fuckwood). Rather conspicuously during this novel, the heroine's best friend, bon vivant girl about town Nellie, was all, "You should not marry the Duke of Lockwood!!! He's the worst!!! Why? I shall not elaborate!!!"

And so, for the next book, The Lady Gets Lucky, Lockwood romanced another heroine in the hope of getting dollar princess dollars. But lo, he was cucked. Again. In the third book he didn't even try, but he still sort of got cucked, because why not? That's hilarious. But throughout the series, you get these little hints and asides that suggest that while Lockwood and Nellie hate each other, they really hate how much they want to absolutely rail the fuck out of each other.

Thus, we get The Duke Gets Even.

Truly, I don't know that I've ever been as excited about a romance release as I am about The Duke Gets Even. I was practically campaigning for an ARC of this book. And I have no regrets, even though I don't think that campaigning mattered much, because I have read this book several times since I got the ARC, and it is glorious.

There's something about a great historical romance series--wherein all the books do stand alone, but when read in sequence, you get these great tidbits of how a happy couple is doing, or who might come next. The Fifth Avenue Rebels has been great in this sense, giving us several parallel stories that all spin off of the same wild Newport house party (and building a core group of friends that I love). But undoubtedly, the couple that Joanna Shupe has been teasing the entire time is Nellie and Lockwood--a spitfire rich girl with a keen sense towards reproductive justice, and a seemingly uptight duke who needs to marry an American heiress in order to secure his estate's future. Reading previous books (which again, isn't necessary but is fun, not least of all because they're just good books) you know that Nellie has actively campaigned against this man getting with any of her friends. Now we see why. And we also get a love story that is less about his worries over her reputation, regardless of what the setup may make you think... and more about Nellie's fears of emotional intimacy and what an uncertain future with Lockwood (government name Andrew, I'll add) could hold. Trust and believe: the man is all in with her quite early in the book--while Nellie's journey really imitates a traditional historical romance hero's journey. God, Joanna Shupe's brain.

Quick Takes:

--Yes, this book is hot as fuck. Yes, he's a bit of a freak. To get it out of the way: Lockwood likes rough sex. Fortunately, Nellie also likes rough sex! He's into biting her and leaving bruises, she's into scratching him and drawing blood. There's a wonderful moment when he promises to ~stick to the outside~ because of previous exertions that lives rent free in my head. While I would say the sex in this book is very intimate and vulnerable and oftentimes emotional, I wouldn't say that it's like... "He parted my tender petals" sex. Which, like--is why Joanna Shupe, in my opinion, writes some of the best sex scenes in historical romance. Easily. The sex Nellie and Lockwood have feels authentic to who they are and their relationship.

--So much water in this book! I love a motif. Nellie and Lockwood meet in the water; swimming is an important part of life for him; they bond over her dad letting him use the indoor pool (Cornelius Young, my brother in CHRIST, setting these two up for naked pool shenanigans... He said "If my daughter's gonna have wild sex in inappropriate locations, I'd rather it be with a gentleman who adores her"). Lockwood's always like "Nellie is a beautiful winsome mermaid, I find that so annoying".

--I love that much of the emotional crux of this book does surround Nellie's love of women and her desire for a maternal figure. She does have one, but the loss of her mother is still acute, and that felt very emotionally authentic to me. Also: there is an amazing undercurrent of being the last single woman in your group of beloved female friends, and how lonely that can be, and oof--I've never read that in a historical in a manner that isn't about the woman wanting to get married, but the woman feeling isolated from her friends, and stunted somehow. Hit me real hard.

--I feel like it's important to say that this book is obviously very timely. Nellie does crusade for women's rights, and she has had an abortion in the past and has zero regrets about it. She distributes birth control to women who really fucking need it (that is: women who don't have the money to get it through illicit channels like Nellie and her friends do). It's very well done, and while I anticipated Nellie's activities putting her into conflict with Lockwood... They really don't? Not in the way you're thinking, at least.

--There is a lot of interesting "here's what a duke actually was in society by this point" shit, which I found hilarious and a great takedown of the "all powerful duke" in historical romance. In many ways, Lockwood is very alpha and take charge and everything you want from a historical romance hero. But also, the conceit of his entire plot since day one has been that he is BROKE. And he's in America! He's basically a fun little party guest! With no money! He came to the States with his title, his massive cock, and a dream.

--The dirty talk in this novel? The amount of times he'd just call her "darling" after instructing her to do a sex thing? "I'm going to cover you in bite marks, darling"???? There's such a fun back and forth in the dialogue between these characters. You definitely get filled in on the time that's passed over the previous three books, and how Nellie and Lockwood have been dealing with their shenanigans in the background of the other love stories. It leaves you with two people who aren't friends but do know each other quite well, and can't resist the urge to dig at one another.

--I love Nellie so much. Easily a top heroine for me. (Who does in fact get on top.) But I will say that Lockwood's inner monologue was just... fabulous. The amount of times this man would just be like "WELP. ONCE AGAIN THE WORLD IS HERE TO SHIT ON ME" when he wasn't just rhapsodizing over Nellie? Honestly, a relatable king.

--There is a thing in this book that did yield a moment and a love confession in which I did tear up, and I'm kind of impressed by how Shupe to chose to leave it. Like, I know how I'm interpreting shit, but--especially considering a recent discussion on romance Twitter--I found it intriguing.

This is just what I wanted it to be--a good dose of enemies to lovers, a man who's butt crazy in love, and a woman who can't deal with it. Also, the kinds of ridiculously hot sex scenes that only Joanna Shupe can deliver. God bless. I couldn't recommend it more.

Thank you to Netgalley and Avon for giving me a free copy of this book exchange for an honest review.

[eliteprepsat]

I’ve always loved to read. I was the kid in high school who, when we watched the film adaptation of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in 12th grade English, insisted that I read the book first. So, for those few days that the rest of the class watched the movie as a group, I literally scooted my desk out into the hallway with the paperback instead.

Major eye roll, I know.

Given my education, I’ve often wondered how my love of reading began. This is because the offerings in my middle school and high school English classes were pretty limited and far from interesting. And I gather that many people have had similar learning experiences. This is why, about 20 years and a few English degrees later, I’ve compiled a list of the 15 books I wish I had read in high school. I hope the list will come in handy for those young people who, like me in the 90’s, have an inkling that they love literature but lack sufficient guidance as to what to read next.

1. Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1889)

At some point during our school years, most of us are assigned either Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Huckleberry Finn, in particular, is thought by many to be the greatest American novel of all time for (among other reasons) its considerations of race, identity, and morality.

Yet, there is more to Mark Twain than these two novels. Twain was an incredibly prolific writer, penning not only novels, but also journalism and travelogues, essays, and memoirs. Twain stands out among the greats for his truly singular wit and insight into the human condition.

A lesser known (but no less incredible) novel of Twain’s is A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, which tells the story of Hank Morgan who, after receiving a blow to the head, is transported back in time to Arthurian England. At its simplest, the novel is a fun tale of adventure set in a time and place of enduring interest. At its more complex, it challenges our assumptions of history. Are we really that much smarter or advanced, Twain asks, than people from centuries past?

2. Octavia Butler’s Kindred (1979)

In a field historically dominated by white men, Octavia Butler, an African American woman, was a pioneer and a powerhouse of science fiction writing. Her most famous book, the haunting novel Kindred, combines elements of sci-fi (e.g. time travel) with elements from the tradition of the U.S. slave narrative, to tell the story of a young African American writer forced to shuffle between her present, 20th-century life in Los Angeles and that of a pre-Civil War Maryland plantation. A groundbreaking, genre-bending novel that explores serious issues of slavery and prejudice, Kindred remains as important today as ever, and it would be great for introducing such issues to high school students due to its exciting and thought-provoking approach.

3. Frederick Douglass’s Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (1845)

Octavia Butler’s Kindred is a literary tour de force. Yet, it fits under the category of speculative fiction, or fiction that stands in some way outside of reality. For a real-life account of what it was like to live as a slave, nothing compares to Frederick Douglass’s autobiography, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. Douglass’s Narrative tells the story of his being born into slavery in Maryland in the early 1800s, the many abuses he both witnessed and suffered within the institution of slavery, and his eventual escape from slavery to freedom. At turns starkly brutal and lyrically beautiful, Douglass’s memoir is a reflection on freedom, (in)humanity, literacy, and truth. Although the history of slavery in the U.S. is often taught in high school, such lessons are often limited and rarely told from the actual voices of the enslaved. While Douglass’s memoir is not the first slave narrative, it is certainly the most famous.

4. Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man (1952)

Ralph Ellison’s novel Invisible Man follows an unnamed Black narrator who has chosen to live in an underground lair beneath a bustling city, a symbol for the social “invisibility” he has long experienced throughout his lifetime. Drawing from Dostoyevsky’s Notes from the Underground and highly influenced by Ellison’s own mentor Richard Wright, Invisible Man is a lyrical and philosophical exploration of common issues faced by African Americans in the early 20th century. It is a wonderful read for high school students since it highlights the lasting oppressions experienced by African Americans post-slavery—most of which remain relevant still today.

5. James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916)

A classic of high school reading lists is J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. This novel is often a favorite of teens, too, since they can so easily relate to the protagonist, Holden Caulfield, as he questions many of society’s conventions. But there’s no doubt that Salinger was inspired by another book, James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, in which the reader similarly follows young, Irish college student Stephen Dedalus (Joyce’s literary alter ego) as he rebels against his upbringing. It’s a coming-of-age novel perfect for high school students, since it deals with many of the quintessential questions young people ask, including those involving their schooling, their religion, and their place within society at large.

6. Short stories (especially by women)

The curriculum of many high school English classes tends to privilege the novel. Short stories (especially those often anthologized in textbooks) tend to be assigned, as well. Often-anthologized short stories are usually classics, and for good reason. But there’s so much more out there—especially by women writers—where the unique art form of the short story is concerned. Masters of the genre include Flannery O’Connor, Shirley Jackson, Joyce Carol Oates, Alice Walker, Margaret Atwood, Jamaica Kincaid, Alice Munro, and Ann Petry. In our current moment, a rich and diverse range of short story writers is also producing incredible work. The anthology Rotten English (2007), for instance, presents a collection of international short stories (as well as poetry, essays, and novel excerpts) written in “non-standard,” vernacular English, exposing readers to the myriad ways authors continue to re-think language itself.

7. Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning (2020)

Another extraordinary book that reflects upon the nature of language is Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings. In this collection of autobiographical essays, Hong plumbs—with humor and unique insight—her complicated feelings of racial identity. A native of Los Angeles’s Koreatown, Hong describes her experiences growing up as a child who was seen as not speaking English “correctly,” yet relates how these same experiences of coming to own what she calls “bad English” led to her becoming the dynamic artist she is today. An intimate exploration of Asian American identity and one’s relationship to words, Minor Feelings is a powerful offering for high school students, whether they can relate to Hong’s experiences or engage with an experience other than their own.

8. Tommy Orange’s There There (2018)

Much of the U.S. history and accompanying American literature taught in high school gives young people a limited, often romanticized, and ultimately inaccurate way of thinking about indigenous cultures. A prime example is James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans, which presents native peoples as inherently “one with nature” and essentially part of the past. Cheyenne and Arapaho author Tommy Orange’s debut novel, There There, provides an alternative, corrective view of indigenous cultures to the one typically taught in high school. The book follows a cast of 12 characters from Native communities living in 21st-century Oakland, California as they deal with issues including addiction, depression, and cultural dispossession. In its consideration of modern-day indigenous peoples and their relationships to urban life, Orange’s There There refuses the limiting designations often promulgated in high school, showing readers how indigenous cultures have survived and thrived into the present day.

9. Contemporary poetry

The poetry that is typically taught in high school often leaves students disliking—or, worse—feeling alienated from it. But this is because the poetry that is typically taught in high school tends to be older, with archaic-sounding language that students find un-relatable. When I was in high school, I didn’t really understand that people still wrote poetry. And I think that many young people still don’t know that there is a thriving contemporary poetry world with many interesting writers doing interesting things. A few popular poets writing today are Ocean Vuong, Danez Smith, Sam Sax, Kaveh Akhbar, Donika Kelly, Terrance Hayes, Tracy K. Smith, Natalie Diaz, Katie Ford, Jenny Xie, and Layli Long Soldier. Literary journals are a great way to keep up to date on the latest in the poetry world. A few of the most popular literary journals out there include The Paris Review, Ploughshares, and Poetry.

10. Quality horror

When I was in high school, I was drawn to horror as a genre. Unfortunately, though, I didn’t really know where to turn for good literary horror content. I only knew of Stephen King, whose work was admittedly too mature in its subject matter for a teen. In school, we read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and the occasional Edgar Allan Poe short story. Yet, as with the poetry that is typically taught in high school, these authors felt remote and almost ancient.

High schoolers who are similarly drawn to this genre should know that there is no shortage of powerful, artful horror literature out there. Some iconic examples include Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, which is widely considered the quintessential haunted house story, and Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black which, although written in the 1980’s, reads like a classic of the genre akin to Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw. For more contemporary horror offerings, check out this list of 100 Favorite Horror Stories from NPR.

11. More nonfiction

Many high school students tend to associate nonfiction with academic textbook writing. I know I did. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized the category of nonfiction encapsulates everything from journalism, to memoir, to travel writing, to lyrical essays, to self-help guides, and more. There is quite literally a type of nonfiction writing for anyone and everyone’s interests. And, I think, if students were exposed to a wider range of nonfiction early on, they might find their own personal niche within it. To begin exploring this vast, diverse literary genre, high school teachers and students should look to what’s published in popular literary magazines such as The New Yorker and The Atlantic. Another great source for quality nonfiction is The Best American Essays. Part of The Best American Series published by Houghton Mifflin (which also includes titles such as The Best American Mystery Stories and The Best American Food Writing), The Best American Essays is a yearly anthology of magazine articles published in the United States.

12. Graphic novels

We’ve discussed how poetry can be alienating for high school students. The truth is, for many young people, just about any kind of literature can feel alienating, regardless of the genre. In a world that is currently so dominated by visual media, a solid introduction to literature often needs to come with the help of visual media. Graphic novels are a wonderful option in this case since, by definition, they blend visuals with literary narrative.

Though similar in ways, graphic novels are not to be confused with comic books. Graphic novels tend to be longer, non-serialized (i.e. standalone) books that combine text and illustrations in a comic-strip format to tell a story. And although there is incredible variety among graphic novels, some truly tend toward high art.

Examples of highly lauded graphic novels include Maus (1980), which relates the experiences of author Art Spiegelman’s father as a Polish Jew and Holocaust survivor, and Watchmen (1986), a genre-defining (and interrogating) graphic novel about a disgraced group of former super heroes. There is also a 2017 graphic novel adaptation of Kindred, which adds striking visuals to Octavia Butler’s already stunning story of history, race, and the treatment of women.

13. Magical realism

Much of the literature taught in high school is either from, or inspired by, the British realist tradition. This means that such literature attempts to detail real people, places, and things in as truthful a manner as possible. Yet, there are many other styles of writing out there—writing styles that, in many cases, appeal more to teenagers’ naturally imaginative natures than does British realism. One such style is magical realism.

In magical realism, writers don’t attempt to detail real people, places, and things in as truthful a manner as possible. Rather, they create compelling worlds that combine reality with fantasy. Gabriel García Márquez, a Nobel Prize-winning Columbian author, is widely considered the “father” of magical realism. His stories give one the feeling that anything can happen at any moment. In his short story, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” for example, an odd, angel-like figure falls from the sky one day in the middle of an otherwise normal village.

The events of magical realist stories are often as interesting as anything seen on television or film. And in a world with so much compelling content competing for our attention, it would behoove high school teachers to capture their students’ interests with literature from rich, exciting traditions such as magical realism. Contemporary writers who write within this tradition of magical realism include Aimee Bender and Kelly Link.

14. The Very Short Introductions series

By the time I reached graduate school, I had the feeling that my education had been lamentably pointy rather than well-rounded. I had been lucky enough to craft an education that was catered to my specific interests. However, I felt like I had missed out on the opportunity to think through other, essential subjects and ideas. This is where Oxford University Press’s Very Short Introductions series comes in. With over 700 titles covering an incredibly wide range of topics—everything from Accounting and Alexander the Great to Volcanoes and Zionism—the Very Short Introductions series is a great way to fill in any gaps that might exist in your knowledge. Was The Spanish Civil War not covered in your high school history class? Want to know more about Black Holes or Behavioral Economics? The Very Short Introductions series has informative, literally pocket-sized books on just about any topic about which you’re itching to know more.

15. A grammar book or two

Words come somewhat naturally to me. And by the time I graduated from high school, I had intuited many of the rules of English grammar. Yet, I didn’t understand why I made the choices I did when speaking or drafting a sentence. For better or worse, I had made it through school without a proper course (or even a proper lesson) in grammar. Years later, I now understand that knowing these rules is beneficial to communicating effectively. Perhaps more importantly, though, I understand that knowing these rules can help one to more effectively break the rules.

If, like me, your education in grammar is lacking, you’re in luck. There is a whole field of authors who write books to teach grammar skills in easily-digestible and even (if you can believe it) fun ways.

Two such examples are Lynne Truss’s Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation and the oeuvre of Mignon Fogarty (a.k.a. “Grammar Girl”). A former BBC radio host, Truss mixes humor and practical instruction in Eats, Shoots & Leaves to highlight the importance of proper punctuation. A former professor of journalism, Fogarty has published three essential books on grammar. Her first print book, Grammar Girl's Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing, made The New York Times bestseller list in 2008, and the audiobook version was named one of Oprah Magazine’s “must-hear audiobooks” in 2009.

Still looking for reading ideas? Check out The Best American Nonrequired Reading. Part of The Best American Series and edited by Dave Eggers and others, this is a yearly anthology of fiction and nonfiction selected by high school students.

[zelihatrifles]

Half of a Yellow Sun

It cannot be easy to write about war. War is ugly and it drains hope. It shows you how fragile human lives and achievements really are. I have not been through a war so i will not make any generalised observations of tragic wisdom like an imbecile. But what i have been through is quite a number of war novels, based off real events. And i certainly don't remember anything so acutely painful as what Adichie captures in her debut novel.

Starting off with an ordinary Igbo boy gaping in awe at his master's English pronunciation, you feel like you are right there beside Ugwu as he makes sense of his new surroundings. There are names of so many local dishes and you are bound to feel ashamed that you know of so many American and English dishes but no Nigerian ones. When Adichie switches to Olanna's point of view, you feel restless because Ugwu must have been nicer, but no, Olanna is the perfect next narrator. Then, Richard too. Richard tries hard to translate his love for the Igbo-Ukwu art into a great novel, but war and violence make him realise that writing about the sufferings is not his place. So, when Ugwu's is the story that lasts, nothing is more fitting.

Adichie hesitates neither to write of explicit love nor of graphical violence - she writes of the vulgar and delicious female bond that exists between women/ sisters, and she writes of a white man battling ingrained prejudices and shyness to be comfortable in a country whose birth he was present in. He found himself often thinking about the future, even before the present was over, but it will not go as ge expects. Olanna makes some startling decisions, and you love and hate Ugwu, and feel sorry for him because he is left with no one at all.

You feel angry at those who have suffered but still make others suffer without any qualms, and you feel scared when you learn what humans are capable of. As Chinua Achebe wrote, 'here is a new writer endowed with the gift of ancient storytellers... Adichie came almost fully made'. The half circle of the rising sun on the Biafran flag stays in your mind as a sign of both hope and defeat, and even when you forget what happened in the book, you remember exactly how you felt.

[ds-wrds-of-wizdom]

Moor's Account blog post 2

Mustafa and his wife arrive in the town of Hawikuh, presumably acting as advance scouts for the Castillians. They warn the chief about the approaching white men and the dangers they pose. These white men are the Spanish conquerers. Mustafa wants the indians to spin a tale about how he has been killed. His hope is that the dangerous lands won't seem worthwhile to the expedition, especially since he has been reporting that there is no gold to be found. Either way, he and his wife will leave the town the next day to start their lives. Mustafa wants stories to share with his son, so he decides to write a true account of everything that happened in his life. The Indian chief, however, has had his ego and pride bruised by Mustafa's declarations and protests that he can defend his villages against the invaders. The book ends at this point.

Sources: Brinkerhoff, T. J. (2016). Reexamining the Lore of the “Archetypal Conquistador”: Hernán Cortés and the Spanish Conquest of the Aztec Empire, 1519-1521. The History Teacher, 49(2), 169–187. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24810472Crosby, A. W. (1967). Conquistador y Pestilencia: The First New World Pandemic and the Fall of the Great Indian Empires. The Hispanic American Historical Review, 47(3), 321–337. https://doi.org/10.2307/2511023

I think therefore, the novel properly concludes on a cliffhanger of Mustafa supposedly faking his own death.

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2023

#73 - This Life or the Next, by Demian Vitanza

Rating: 2/5 stars

It's difficult for me to review a fictionalized biography/novel the same way I would a piece of regular fiction. Is it a criticism to say the plot is often boring and wanders aimlessly, when that might be the truth of what happened, and from a certain perspective, the actual point of the story?

Because this is the tale of a man who was radicalized without being devoutly religious to begin with; the tale of a man who was imprisoned for terrorism despite being an ambulance driver who never directly harmed anyone; the tale of a man who struggled to do good without knowing how best to do it because he didn't feel like he belonged anywhere.

I've read other sources (articles, personal accounts, and so forth) about the radicalization process, and it almost always centers on creating a feeling of belonging, the division between in-group and out-group. And the most unbelievable part of this tale (whether this is the true part or not) is that the protagonist managed to stay independent, without pledging loyalty to any one group. But narratively, that's heavily lampshaded, and from a fictional perspective, no one writes about normal people having utterly normal lives, they write about the exceptions, because the exceptions are interesting.

I found the style, presenting a novel as a one-sided conversation, to be off-putting at first, then natural and engaging for a time after I got used to it, but eventually wearisome. I could only get through so many sentences starting with "Yeah," as a response to an unheard question before my brain gave up trying to imagine the other half of the conversation. The style lost its charm when taken as a long ramble, and especially toward the end when a great deal of violence went on, I found the conversational style flattened the action. I would hope the opposite would be true, that the perspective would make it seem more personal and immediate, but the way the protagonist spoke about it sounded like it was happening to someone else, even though he was describing himself.

In fairness to the author and story, a contributing factor to my assessment of the plot as aimless and wandering may be that I had difficulty keeping track of the various terrorist groups involved; as an American who didn't pay close attention to the unrest in Syria at the time, I only ever heard about the biggest news and the most major factions, and knew those factions by their American designations, which weren't the same designations used in this story, as it's not framed from an American perspective and I wouldn't expect it to be.

I don't regret reading it, but I can't honestly say I enjoyed it, either.

[bbiya131]

i think today was a great day. and it somehow completely potrays my perfect daily routine without anything going in my way. which, Alhamdulillah, all came from Allah’s mercy that He helped me in each step of mine.

a great weather really, no, REALLY plays a big part in deciding my mood for the whole day. i love cold rainy days. i love listening to rain. i love staring at the rain pouring. sometimes its diagonal to the right, sometimes its to the left, sometimes its not even diagonal, its straight down. sometimes, i picture them as snow. they do look alike. although i know very well snow is basically rain on freezing days. its snow without the bone-chilling cold.

so i put on my shoes, as i step out of my house, it was the after-rain cold, leaves were scattered everywhere, sky was gray, took out my phone hoping to capture the feelings at that moment so i can reminisce it back, to only putting it back down because i know very well the camera lens wont do its justice and enjoying the present is much much better. no single photos were taken. i love it. Subhanallah.

the lines waiting for the train was not long only means the train is operating smoothly. phew. I dont know about train trips actually. Especially on peak hours. its either me keep scrolling my phone down, just mindlessly staring at something, or having so many thoughts running around. the other day when I sent off my dad to ipoh, I had a thought, how convenient Malaysia is, that my dad can travel to the outskirts without having to drive himself. and my thoughts went to, oh no, not just ipoh, you can go to even outside of Malaysia, by taking the train 5 mins from my house, to the airport rail, to the airport, and by airplane, you can go anywhere in the world? that doesnt make sense. its only 5 mins away to everything! then i thought, its crazy how the world is connected, picturing the globe. then it went to “who even built everything??” crazy.

anyway, thanks to the one who built this train, Ive arrived my office safe and sound.

Please dont ask me what is my job. If there’s one question that people hate the most is what is your job? or what do you do? atleast for me. you wont understand anyway, so I’ll just say I work in an IT department. “so you can hack people?” no, i cant.

So i solved our one last problem today, and we can finally Go Live with our system next monday. Go Live or (is it just Live?) is when youre launching your system to the real world. so i did that today Alhamdulillah.

i love my job. i love thinking for solutions and solving problems. its when i solved a problem i’ll be so happy and be as giddly like a little girl. but my job is just a job. i dont define my self, my life, even, with my job. I am someone who has a lot of hobbies, i do so many things at once. i learn, i read, i pray, i watch, i listen, i write. My job? is nothing of me. and i am glad that all of my teammates are like me too. sometimes I am curious of who they are after 6, but its okay, not knowing is a blessing. I love my job because first, it doesnt intefere my life, second it helps in supporting my hobbies.

my after work hours are when I got to be free in doing the things I love, back home, straight to the shower, after isyak, is my playground. If I’m kinda motivated, i’ll study for my korean. If im less motivated, i’ll take other fun alternatives, to read korean novels/poems. or if lesser than that, i’ll just watch youtubes. sometimes, I even got sick of korean i’ll switch to english. cause, my grammar too is rolling downhill. english is not by studying ofcourse, i’ll watch vlogs on youtube. particularly, british ones. i dont like american accent so much so no thank you. not that i have any negative thoughts about it but i just dont like the sound of it.

anyway, other than that, if you dont know me much, i love hanbin, i’ll go on twitter to have updates of him, or maybe if he’s online, i’ll talk to him. in korean, win win. i got to learn too. then maybe listen to his songs. or idk, anything related to him really. is what i enjoy doing lol.

there’s something about him…, ok anyway moving on.

ah, i am not that productive as you think i am, i too have days when i am too lazy to do anything. usually its on bad days. i just lay on my bed with my phones. ugh i hate it. i hate playing my phone so much. one day, i was on my phone the whole day, i literally consumed it, till I felt so so so tired and in a bad mood at the end of day. I really am trying to combat my phone addiction nowadays so i reach out for books. or cooking shows on netflix. hear me out, even if its still on the screen, its not a scrolling motion. its the scrolling motion that i hate. its when i turn on kdramas is when you know i gave up social media. i dont even watch kdramas or movies. and now im watching a series called “celebrity”. exactly.

what was this post for again???

yeah, about my day, great weather, job’s done, had my llaollao that i craved while listening to my colleagues spoilling the Barbie movie, home to my family, im reading Vivy yusof’s book (she’s so funny) lended by my lovey colleague, listened to some jazz lol (blame hanbin), and writing here! thats what i consider a great day.

so, Alhamdulillah for everything. i hope you guys too are having a great day. may Allah ease everything. may Allah bless you. remember Allah in every steps. Be grateful and make zikir! and have a perfect perfect day everyday! 🐥

ps: sanum, blueberries and any other fruits, kitkat bites and any other crunchies, and ovalmaltine as a topping, the best llaollao combination ever. thank me later. msg me if you need a 15% off code.

[spectaculardistractions]

To José Rubia Barcia Mexico City, 5 September 1948 My dear Barcia, Thank you so much for your lengthy and instructive letter. Kenneth did indeed write back in similar terms to the ones he used in his conversation with you. I don’t think he understood Illegible, Son of a Flute because, although he calls it a striking script, he follows that up immediately with an absolutely standard critique of what he sees as its structural defects. You can’t just say of a poetic film like this one, that it lacks a climax, or that the plot is underdeveloped or too confusing. You can’t judge a naturalist novel and a lyric poem the same way. Still, I’m not about to start arguing cinematic technique with my good friend Macgowan. He thinks there is no chance of it being made in Hollywood anyway. And he’s passing me on to that poor man who made that appalling film Dreams That Money Can’t Buy. Said film-maker, Hans Richter, is a German of precious little talent who made a few vanguard films back in 1927 or 1930. I know him well, and the very fact that Macgowan associated that film with Illegible, Son of a Flute suggests he regards everything unusual as bizarre in the same way. As for a teaching job, I gather it might be possible next year, as long as I could get some additional income elsewhere. I’ve taken note, in case something comes up (although not as a Spanish teacher, of course). I’m finally going to make a film with Dancigers. I’m moving sideways here like a crab. I produced several of Arniches’s films, in 1935 and 1936 just for the fun of it and to earn some money. I didn’t even put my name to them. And now, 15 years later, it turns out I’m going to be directing El último mono by Mr Carlos Arniches ‘seriously’ and with my name on it. Well, at least as far as light work goes, it’s one of the least undignified. They are giving me 18 days to film it. It’s going to be a real mess! But I’ll fight like mad to add at least a little dignity to the mise-en-scene and script. I’ll be free again in January and if I haven’t spent all the money I earn, we’ll all go to Los Angeles. I’m now negotiating with an American company, who want me to film Falla’s Master Peter’s Puppet Show. The terms of the proposal they sent me the day before yesterday are a bit confusing and I’ve asked for clarification. They talk about sending someone down here to talk things over with me and I’ve written back saying that I would be more than willing to travel up to them. If they agree (and if they pay my expenses, of course), we’ll see each other soon. But if they want to see me and this ohso-Aztec of lands at the same time, I’ll just have to agree. One of the reasons I would really like to come up for a week is to see you, drink co-both (a little neologism) gallons and talk at great length as Evita watches over us with her enigmatic Oriental eyes. And that’s that! I completely agree with you about giving the script to Jay Leyda. He’s one of the most honourable and intelligent men in American cinema. As well as being one of my best friends in the world. He wrote to me six or seven months ago, and I haven’t replied. I hope I’ll be able to soon. I’m ashamed… Send my regards if you see him. And to the Edwins as well. What is Rolfe up to? Working still as writer for Warner’s? I gather from his letters that came to an end. As for the dubbing business you mention, it’s impossible. Reasons: I’m not – we’re not – businessmen and would surely get our fingers burned. I have only enough money to get me from one day to the next, and that’s only when I have some; recently, if it hadn’t been for a good friend or two, I would have gone hungry. However, if we can get a bit of capital to start it up, it would be worth thinking about. But where would it come from? They are still doing dubbing here and Dancigers is losing money on every film. The union comes up with more obstacles by the day. They’re trying to stamp it out. They are ferociously antidubbers. And speaking of Dancigers, he won an Ariel yesterday for best film of 1947. It’s pitiful, trying to copy the world’s great film producing centres by handing out Ariels and Oscars to the miserable little films they make down here. It’s insane. If I didn’t have to go to union meetings, I wouldn’t have anything to do with the film world here. That’s how I keep out of all the mess, envy, sycophancy, machinations, etc., etc. Who knows if we’ll see one another soon, perhaps? Warmest regards to Evita and you, Luis PS It would be good if you could send me the original for Cuadernos Americanos. They are very quick at processing them. Please hold on to the two copies of the Illegible, Son of a Flute script and the ‘Introduction’. I may ask you to pass one of them to a certain person soon.

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

[solo-by-choice]

so I’m back on my Gilmore Girls rewatch and this is just to say that I really like Jess. As usual. Does he deserve it? Probably not. But like he’s just this little angry jerk and everyone talks about him like he’s a felon or something. Calm down! He’s still a teenager! 

[amorgansgal]

Hello lovely could I please request some wholesome young John and young Arthur brotherly shenanigans please??? Maybe a prank war or competitive streak that annoys the crap out of papa Hosea and Dutch 🙈

I loved doing this so much, mostly because I have two brothers myself (younger and older) and I decided I would definitely base this on the pranks and jokes we played on each other as kids. Two of these actually happened, one was inspired by a conversation I had on a discord chat. But I'll leave that up to you guys to decide which one that is! Hope you enjoy!

Shenigans, Pranks and Jokes with the Morgan/Marston Brothers!

The Fountain Pen incident

Dutch has a new, fancy fountain pen that he’s showing off to anyone who will give him the time of day. He’s promising to write the next great American novel, which will detail the exploits of the Van Der Linde Gang and put a lot of those absurd lies made up in the newspapers to rights.

Bessie, Annabelle and Susan have already moved on to a different subject. Only Hosea is egging Dutch on, ‘Are you going to start from the gang’s beginning or your own? Because I’m sure everyone would want to read about how you popped into the world!’

The pen is more or less forgotten by dinner time.

The next morning is another matter. John’s face is covered with an inky moustache, a goatee, far thicker eyebrows.

“Arthur, why the hell have you done this?” Dutch demands. “Did you use MY pen?”

Arthur manages to stop wheeze laughing to defend himself. “NO! I got better things to do than draw on Marston’s face!”

Hosea sighs and shakes his head. “Arthur, come on. This is childish even for you!”

“I swear I didn’t do it!”

“Then who did?”

“Why you blamin’ me?”

“Well who else would do that?”

“I don’t know!”

After a week of this enduring mystery, John reveals to Bessie he did it himself. Even though he scrubs his face in the morning, the inky stain doesn’t leave his skin for a whole week and John refuses to leave camp unless he’s wearing his bandana.

Eventually the whole camp knows and Arthur falls off a stool because he’s laughing so hard. John storms off. When he comes back, Arthur offers to touch up his eyebrows. John storms off again.

The Man-Eating Wild Pigs Prank

While Arthur and John are returning back from a job, they realised that with the evening rapidly drawing in they’ll need to camp in a nearby woods instead of returning home.

As they try to find a good spot, Arthur suddenly thinks of a great prank he can play.

“Hold on a minute… yeah, definitely know these woods. When we camp, we best be careful. Heard tell there’s some wild pigs ‘round here that will rip the stomach clean out a man and eat it.”

“You’re full of shit, Arthur!”

“I ain’t. I’m serious. Was in the newspaper in town, fellow went out hunting here and they found him the next day…” He lets out a low whistle. “Nasty stuff.”

John seems to brush it off, but Arthur can tell he’s more wary and keeps nervously jolting when he hears any animals rustling.

Once camp is set up, they’ve had a good meal and John has settled back on his bedroll. Arthur casually mentions needing to relieve himself and heads off into the woods.

He gives it a couple of minutes, then starts snorting and squealing like a pig.

John immediately jumps up, stares around the woods in horror and then runs off down the hill through the woods. Arthur can barely get him to stop running because he’s too busy laughing.

John is teased thoroughly about abandoning everything, even his own horse! He very grumpily tells Arthur: “That’s not funny! You’re not funny, Arthur! You’re an idiot!”

On occasion, even several years down the line, Arthur will still snort like a pig at John and John will do nothing but glare at him.

Marston has his revenge!

John intent on revenge for the pig prank, decides to play a prank on Arthur. He spends a whole afternoon gathering frogs in a bucket, then just as Arthur returns back to camp, he quickly pours the whole lot of them in Arthur’s bed under the blanket.

John sits down at a table with his dinner and watches and waits. Bessie knows he’s up to something as he keeps grinning wickedly and forgetting to eat his meal.

“WHAT THE-?! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Arthur’s furious roar echoes around the camp, birds fly from the trees, John is laughing so much he almost chokes on his dinner.

A frog hops out from the tent. Dutch rolls his eyes and looks at John, but before he can even lecture the boy, Arthur storms out from the tent.

“MARSTON! YOU COME HERE RIGHT NOW!”

John legs it.

Bessie, Annabelle, Susan, Pearson, Dutch and Hosea do their best to have a nice quiet supper, while the two boys are running all over camp.

“I ALMOST SAT ON ‘EM! YOU GODDAMN FOOL!”

“SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR THE PIG THING!”

“YER NEED TO LEARN TO TAKE A GODDAMN JOKE, MARSTON!”

“SO DO YOU! ARTHUR!”

Hosea looks up briefly. ‘Should we interfere?’

Bessie shakes her head. ‘No, they’ll wear themselves out eventually.’