Wanderlust
Sep. 18th, 2010 11:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lunasarielHello from exotic London! I've been here for about five days, and this is the first time I've had a chance to sit down and write a bit. The Internet in my apartment is seriously weird, and the wi-fi at the Student Center down at the university is on the fritz as well, so I finally broke down and bought a mobile broadband stick, which looks like an emery board made by Apple. Not cheap, but not outrageously expensive, either, and at least I've got a (fairly) reliable connection.
Like I said, I'm in an apartment. 4th floor, no less (actually the 5th floor, because here they call the 1st floor the ground floor and the 2nd floor the 1st floor). Four flights of stairs, at least twice a day, every day for the next three months. Rock on.
Our apartment is in Kensington, which I gather is the posh area of town. It would be waaay to expensive, as well as a bit wasteful, to stick us all in separate rooms, so we've each got a roommate (one big room in the basement has four). Mine, Stephanie, is alright. We don't seem to have anything in common, but she's a really nice person, very easy to get along with. But everybody here is very social, so we're always in and out of each other's rooms. I both like this, and I don't. I like it, because I can talk to pretty much anyone, at any time. On the other hand, I tend towards introversion, so having so many social obligations is kind of overwhelming.
My classes aren't the walk in the park they were billed as, but I'm kind of glad about that. It's nice to have a bit of a challenge, once in a while. I'm especially enjoying Introduction to the Novel, because it's drawing me out of my literary comfort zone and exposing me to books I might not otherwise have read. Everybody hates Moll Flanders, although I can see how it was a bestseller in its day. I found The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society charming, but that might be just because it's very appealing to me, personally. London Fields, on the other hand, was revolting, but I expect that was exactly the reaction the author was going for. I'm about three-quarters done with Emma, and I'm enjoying it more this time around than I have previously. It may be that last time, I was more into gritty urban fantasy, but now, I find it soothingly witty. A Christmas Carol was a perplexing choice. Yes, of course you need to have Dickens on a reading list for British novels, but A Christmas Carol? He wrote it specifically for the cheap schmaltz. *shrug* Maybe they picked it because it's so short, or because it's the one that everybody already knows. I accidentally forgot to order Gaudy Night, so that one's on its way from Amazon, and I'm eager to read it. I could do with a good mystery right about now.
Speaking of mysteries, I'm glad I brought a few Terry Pratchetts along with me. I'm reading Feet of Clay at the moment, and I'm struck more than ever by the similarities between Ankh-Morpork and London. I read a lot of Brit lit, so I intentionally brought quite a bit of it with me, so that I could read it in its native environment, so to speak. Also, with everything changing so fast, and in such a totally unfamiliar environment, it's nice to have a few old friends to anchor me.
Speaking of old friends, I've brought the oldest and best of the old and good with me. Every so often, I get so overawed and wrapped up in Tolkien's genius and complexity that I forget to just enjoy the darn books. He writes with a very real, sincere love for the Shire and its stalwart little inhabitants that is impossible not to be moved by. But it's more than that: the remote grandeur of the Elves, funny little Tom Bombadil, the sleeping power of the Ents, the faded majesty of Gondor, even the dual repellance and pitifulness of Gollum, all of this came straight from the heart. Tolkien had the unusual luxury of not having to depend on his writing for his bread and butter, so he wrote pretty much whatever the hell he wanted. There is no hint, in his works, of pandering or condescension. He said what he had to say, and if other people wanted to read it, then fine and dandy, but if they didn't, it was no skin off his nose.
There are some works of fiction where I can admit their flaws, but love the work despite them. But then again, there are some works where I just don't see any. Of course, there's always personal preference to take into account, but assuming that one is always predisposed towards genre fiction, I can't find a single bad thing to say about Tolkien or Terry Pratchett. They are a pair of brilliant men, and deserve every word of praise they get. They just...gah. I'm definitely in a mood to effuse about my favorite authors and books, but I just can't find any words good enough, so I'll quit while I'm ahead.
Perhaps it's because I'm in London that I'm in such a literary mood. This city is *old*. And I don't mean old like New York or San Francisco is old, I mean that it's been continuously inhabited for 2,000 years, and will probably be inhabited to 2,000 years to come. There's a sense of permanence here, a suggestion of casual antiquity. Things and buildings that would be carefully preserved in the U.S., each one meticulously maintained by a crack team of historians, just exist here. On a sightseeing tour we took last week, we drove past a section of the old Roman wall that surrounded Londinium. In the States, it would be surrounded by a wall of its own; people wouldn't be let near it for fear of damaging it. But here, they figure that it's been here for the last 2,000 years or so, so it probably isn't going to fall down now. In fact, just down the street from our apartment, a 17th century church is sandwiched quite comfortably between a bank and a hair salon.
There's so much fiction that has to do with London, so many famous characters have set themselves up as inhabitants or protectors of the City, that it's impossible not to flick a nervous glance skyward every so often, checking for Daleks, Death Eaters, or Gamorrans. Similarly, when I'm walking about (which is most of the time; everybody walks everywhere here), I can't help but keep an eye out for little blue boxes, people in red berets, big black dogs, or just a particularly sour-faced blonde woman smoking and watching the world go by. On the other hand, I'm fairly glad that I haven't seen the Nightside or any of its many and varied inhabitants. Putting aside what that would do for my life expectancy, I (as I've written before) find the whole place a bit tiresome, and none more so than Mr. John "Would-Be Harry Dresden" Taylor.
But getting back to London itself, it's easy to see the past within the present. Kensington Park, where I was earlier today, seems to be built for horses. I can just imagine Tudor kings and Edwardian ladies and gentlemen riding down the Promenade and taking lunch by the Round Pond. Similarly, the Thames, to me, is the essence of Victorian England. As part of the aforementioned sightseeing tour, we took a cruise on the River, and even though the embankments have been shored up and most (although not all) of the old factories are gone, I still half-expected to see mudlarks picking along the banks and Sherlock Holmes resting his elbows on a bridge's railings, watching the water traffic go by. Even Old Brompton Road, a few blocks over from my apartment, seems highly medieval to me. The houses are so tall, dark, and close together that I can't help but see monks walking sedately, hands tucked into their sleeves, towards the cathedral whose spires I can see in the distance, and highwaymen ducking into narrow alleys with a swirl of their cloaks and the echoing clip-clop of their horses' hooves on the cobblestones. I even occasionally find the odd hitching-post or water trough that nobody saw fit to remove, and just left there, as though somebody might need to tie up or water their horses at any minute.
I know I'm kind of see-sawing back and forth between London and books, so now I'm back to books. One series I'm regretting not bringing is Nightrunner. Aside from the fact that I'm constantly needing to look things up (is it Plenimar or Plennimar? Did Seregil and Alec kiss or just hug during their big reunion scene in Shadows Return?), Lynn Flewelling is releasing Glimpses, the NR short story collection, on Tuesday, and I'm sure that I'm going to want a re-read of the series proper. Anticipation has really been building for the Glimpses release. I thought that I'd be able to wait until I get back to the U.S., but now I'm ordering it through Amazon or Book Depository and having it shipped here, because I just cannot wait.
Glimpses has been a looooong time in coming. Lynn, known here on LJ as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
otterdance , has a habit of posting deleted scenes, snippets, and other goodies that don't make it into her published works. A few months ago, she posted a very popular short story about Seregil's and Micum's first meeting. When that went over so well, she promised to post a piece that she'd been working on for some time, one that was naturally a huge topic of discussion among the fans. Namely, Alec's and Seregil's first night as lovers. But she kept putting it off and putting it off, trying to refine it and make sure that it was more than just pointless smut. Good for her, I say; it would be horrible to see Nightrunner descend to the level of Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter. But every time she put it off, the fans reiterated how much they wanted to see it, how eagerly they were awaiting it. So not too long ago, she got the idea to take the Seregil & Micum story, the Seregil/Alec story, and a few other odds and ends she had lying around, and announced her intent to publish a chapbook, or a collection of short stories with illustrations. On one hand, this is great, because now not only are we getting more material (in addition to some great fanart), but it'll be in a permanent, physical form, not online, where it can be corrupted or lost. On the other hand, it meant a delay of months and months, in addition to all the time we've already had to wait, and, to quote a certain Spaniard, "I hate waiting." Oh, well. Just a few more days... *crosses fingers*
Speaking of Nightrunner, my fics in that fandom are heading in an interesting direction of late. I've been playing around with a return to Plenimar for quite a while, under basically the same circumstances, only voluntary. Usually, I have Phoria come to her senses, re-instate the Watchers, and send them off to do their thing. At first, I had them doing some sabotage or highly-placed espionage work, but I found that a bit impersonal (also, just not a lot of fun), so I've switched back to the good ol' "slavery" standby. This led to the necessity of creating a viable antagonist, since Yhakobin is dead and Ilar is definitely not getting within bowshot of Plenimar again, if he can help it. So now I've got Kharon, who I've been taking in two different directions.
In one scenario, our boys' plan goes sideways, and Alec and Seregil are enslaved (again). They are sold separately, causing them both to freak out and imagine all sorts of horrible things happening to each other (and, honestly, to themselves). Seregil is especially unhappy at this turn of events, and puts up quite a fight when the guards come for him. In this fight, he is badly injured and passes out, expecting to die. Therefore, he is rather surprised to wake up in a clean, well-lit, although obviously Plenimaran, infirmary. The master of the house, Kharon, soon comes to greet him. He does so in the Aurënfaie tongue, to Seregil's great surprise. To Seregil's even greater amazement, Kharon turns out to publicly lead the life of a good-for-nothing second son of one of the great houses (it's hinted that he might even be in line for the Overlord's throne) with a thing for pretty, pretty Aurënfaie, while privately buying up every 'faie slave he can do so safely, and then releasing them in small, controlled groups to avoid suspicion. It turns out that he has also bought Alec, and swiftly reunites the two lovers. Alec is in favor of telling Kharon their mission and enlisting his help, since he obviously deplores the current national attitude of warmongering. Seregil, however, is more reserved. He is extremely skeptical of Kharon's timely arrival, snatching both of them from the jaws of a fate worse than death, and fears him to be a "spybreaker," or counterintelligence agent. I haven't decided which way I'm going to go with this yet. If Alec is right, then Kharon will be as good as his word, ship them back to Skala, and overall be an enormous help. Seregil will continue to be skeptical about him (not entirely without reason; it will be revealed that he is an extremely highly placed member of the royal family) until he does something especially heroic and wins Seregil's trust. But if Seregil is right, then Kharon will have "accidentally" neglected to inform Micum of their whereabouts, and start subtly pumping them for information, all while maintaining a friendly exterior. When he figures out that the pair has copped to his game, things will get ugly, and an improvised rescue might have to be enacted.
In the second scenario, Kharon will turn out to be exactly what he was only playing at in the previous scene: a rich, kinky nobleman's son with a thing for gorgeous 'faie (and half-'faie). Again, he will start out friendly, greeting the pair in the Aurënfaie tongue, observing proper Aurënfaie greeting rituals, and so on. It will become apparent that he is obsessed with the Aurënfaie, and will not hesitate to go to disturbing lengths to find out *everything* about them. Alec and Seregil are the first bonded pair he's been able to observe together, so after observing them for a little while, he hits on the idea of figuring out how to break the talímenios bond and re-apply it to himself, thus creating incredibly loyal and devoted slaves. Naturally, this is neither easy nor pleasant for the subjects of his experiments, and again, a hasty exit is necessary.
Like I said, I'm in an apartment. 4th floor, no less (actually the 5th floor, because here they call the 1st floor the ground floor and the 2nd floor the 1st floor). Four flights of stairs, at least twice a day, every day for the next three months. Rock on.
Our apartment is in Kensington, which I gather is the posh area of town. It would be waaay to expensive, as well as a bit wasteful, to stick us all in separate rooms, so we've each got a roommate (one big room in the basement has four). Mine, Stephanie, is alright. We don't seem to have anything in common, but she's a really nice person, very easy to get along with. But everybody here is very social, so we're always in and out of each other's rooms. I both like this, and I don't. I like it, because I can talk to pretty much anyone, at any time. On the other hand, I tend towards introversion, so having so many social obligations is kind of overwhelming.
My classes aren't the walk in the park they were billed as, but I'm kind of glad about that. It's nice to have a bit of a challenge, once in a while. I'm especially enjoying Introduction to the Novel, because it's drawing me out of my literary comfort zone and exposing me to books I might not otherwise have read. Everybody hates Moll Flanders, although I can see how it was a bestseller in its day. I found The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society charming, but that might be just because it's very appealing to me, personally. London Fields, on the other hand, was revolting, but I expect that was exactly the reaction the author was going for. I'm about three-quarters done with Emma, and I'm enjoying it more this time around than I have previously. It may be that last time, I was more into gritty urban fantasy, but now, I find it soothingly witty. A Christmas Carol was a perplexing choice. Yes, of course you need to have Dickens on a reading list for British novels, but A Christmas Carol? He wrote it specifically for the cheap schmaltz. *shrug* Maybe they picked it because it's so short, or because it's the one that everybody already knows. I accidentally forgot to order Gaudy Night, so that one's on its way from Amazon, and I'm eager to read it. I could do with a good mystery right about now.
Speaking of mysteries, I'm glad I brought a few Terry Pratchetts along with me. I'm reading Feet of Clay at the moment, and I'm struck more than ever by the similarities between Ankh-Morpork and London. I read a lot of Brit lit, so I intentionally brought quite a bit of it with me, so that I could read it in its native environment, so to speak. Also, with everything changing so fast, and in such a totally unfamiliar environment, it's nice to have a few old friends to anchor me.
Speaking of old friends, I've brought the oldest and best of the old and good with me. Every so often, I get so overawed and wrapped up in Tolkien's genius and complexity that I forget to just enjoy the darn books. He writes with a very real, sincere love for the Shire and its stalwart little inhabitants that is impossible not to be moved by. But it's more than that: the remote grandeur of the Elves, funny little Tom Bombadil, the sleeping power of the Ents, the faded majesty of Gondor, even the dual repellance and pitifulness of Gollum, all of this came straight from the heart. Tolkien had the unusual luxury of not having to depend on his writing for his bread and butter, so he wrote pretty much whatever the hell he wanted. There is no hint, in his works, of pandering or condescension. He said what he had to say, and if other people wanted to read it, then fine and dandy, but if they didn't, it was no skin off his nose.
There are some works of fiction where I can admit their flaws, but love the work despite them. But then again, there are some works where I just don't see any. Of course, there's always personal preference to take into account, but assuming that one is always predisposed towards genre fiction, I can't find a single bad thing to say about Tolkien or Terry Pratchett. They are a pair of brilliant men, and deserve every word of praise they get. They just...gah. I'm definitely in a mood to effuse about my favorite authors and books, but I just can't find any words good enough, so I'll quit while I'm ahead.
Perhaps it's because I'm in London that I'm in such a literary mood. This city is *old*. And I don't mean old like New York or San Francisco is old, I mean that it's been continuously inhabited for 2,000 years, and will probably be inhabited to 2,000 years to come. There's a sense of permanence here, a suggestion of casual antiquity. Things and buildings that would be carefully preserved in the U.S., each one meticulously maintained by a crack team of historians, just exist here. On a sightseeing tour we took last week, we drove past a section of the old Roman wall that surrounded Londinium. In the States, it would be surrounded by a wall of its own; people wouldn't be let near it for fear of damaging it. But here, they figure that it's been here for the last 2,000 years or so, so it probably isn't going to fall down now. In fact, just down the street from our apartment, a 17th century church is sandwiched quite comfortably between a bank and a hair salon.
There's so much fiction that has to do with London, so many famous characters have set themselves up as inhabitants or protectors of the City, that it's impossible not to flick a nervous glance skyward every so often, checking for Daleks, Death Eaters, or Gamorrans. Similarly, when I'm walking about (which is most of the time; everybody walks everywhere here), I can't help but keep an eye out for little blue boxes, people in red berets, big black dogs, or just a particularly sour-faced blonde woman smoking and watching the world go by. On the other hand, I'm fairly glad that I haven't seen the Nightside or any of its many and varied inhabitants. Putting aside what that would do for my life expectancy, I (as I've written before) find the whole place a bit tiresome, and none more so than Mr. John "Would-Be Harry Dresden" Taylor.
But getting back to London itself, it's easy to see the past within the present. Kensington Park, where I was earlier today, seems to be built for horses. I can just imagine Tudor kings and Edwardian ladies and gentlemen riding down the Promenade and taking lunch by the Round Pond. Similarly, the Thames, to me, is the essence of Victorian England. As part of the aforementioned sightseeing tour, we took a cruise on the River, and even though the embankments have been shored up and most (although not all) of the old factories are gone, I still half-expected to see mudlarks picking along the banks and Sherlock Holmes resting his elbows on a bridge's railings, watching the water traffic go by. Even Old Brompton Road, a few blocks over from my apartment, seems highly medieval to me. The houses are so tall, dark, and close together that I can't help but see monks walking sedately, hands tucked into their sleeves, towards the cathedral whose spires I can see in the distance, and highwaymen ducking into narrow alleys with a swirl of their cloaks and the echoing clip-clop of their horses' hooves on the cobblestones. I even occasionally find the odd hitching-post or water trough that nobody saw fit to remove, and just left there, as though somebody might need to tie up or water their horses at any minute.
I know I'm kind of see-sawing back and forth between London and books, so now I'm back to books. One series I'm regretting not bringing is Nightrunner. Aside from the fact that I'm constantly needing to look things up (is it Plenimar or Plennimar? Did Seregil and Alec kiss or just hug during their big reunion scene in Shadows Return?), Lynn Flewelling is releasing Glimpses, the NR short story collection, on Tuesday, and I'm sure that I'm going to want a re-read of the series proper. Anticipation has really been building for the Glimpses release. I thought that I'd be able to wait until I get back to the U.S., but now I'm ordering it through Amazon or Book Depository and having it shipped here, because I just cannot wait.
Glimpses has been a looooong time in coming. Lynn, known here on LJ as
otterdance , has a habit of posting deleted scenes, snippets, and other goodies that don't make it into her published works. A few months ago, she posted a very popular short story about Seregil's and Micum's first meeting. When that went over so well, she promised to post a piece that she'd been working on for some time, one that was naturally a huge topic of discussion among the fans. Namely, Alec's and Seregil's first night as lovers. But she kept putting it off and putting it off, trying to refine it and make sure that it was more than just pointless smut. Good for her, I say; it would be horrible to see Nightrunner descend to the level of Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter. But every time she put it off, the fans reiterated how much they wanted to see it, how eagerly they were awaiting it. So not too long ago, she got the idea to take the Seregil & Micum story, the Seregil/Alec story, and a few other odds and ends she had lying around, and announced her intent to publish a chapbook, or a collection of short stories with illustrations. On one hand, this is great, because now not only are we getting more material (in addition to some great fanart), but it'll be in a permanent, physical form, not online, where it can be corrupted or lost. On the other hand, it meant a delay of months and months, in addition to all the time we've already had to wait, and, to quote a certain Spaniard, "I hate waiting." Oh, well. Just a few more days... *crosses fingers*Speaking of Nightrunner, my fics in that fandom are heading in an interesting direction of late. I've been playing around with a return to Plenimar for quite a while, under basically the same circumstances, only voluntary. Usually, I have Phoria come to her senses, re-instate the Watchers, and send them off to do their thing. At first, I had them doing some sabotage or highly-placed espionage work, but I found that a bit impersonal (also, just not a lot of fun), so I've switched back to the good ol' "slavery" standby. This led to the necessity of creating a viable antagonist, since Yhakobin is dead and Ilar is definitely not getting within bowshot of Plenimar again, if he can help it. So now I've got Kharon, who I've been taking in two different directions.
In one scenario, our boys' plan goes sideways, and Alec and Seregil are enslaved (again). They are sold separately, causing them both to freak out and imagine all sorts of horrible things happening to each other (and, honestly, to themselves). Seregil is especially unhappy at this turn of events, and puts up quite a fight when the guards come for him. In this fight, he is badly injured and passes out, expecting to die. Therefore, he is rather surprised to wake up in a clean, well-lit, although obviously Plenimaran, infirmary. The master of the house, Kharon, soon comes to greet him. He does so in the Aurënfaie tongue, to Seregil's great surprise. To Seregil's even greater amazement, Kharon turns out to publicly lead the life of a good-for-nothing second son of one of the great houses (it's hinted that he might even be in line for the Overlord's throne) with a thing for pretty, pretty Aurënfaie, while privately buying up every 'faie slave he can do so safely, and then releasing them in small, controlled groups to avoid suspicion. It turns out that he has also bought Alec, and swiftly reunites the two lovers. Alec is in favor of telling Kharon their mission and enlisting his help, since he obviously deplores the current national attitude of warmongering. Seregil, however, is more reserved. He is extremely skeptical of Kharon's timely arrival, snatching both of them from the jaws of a fate worse than death, and fears him to be a "spybreaker," or counterintelligence agent. I haven't decided which way I'm going to go with this yet. If Alec is right, then Kharon will be as good as his word, ship them back to Skala, and overall be an enormous help. Seregil will continue to be skeptical about him (not entirely without reason; it will be revealed that he is an extremely highly placed member of the royal family) until he does something especially heroic and wins Seregil's trust. But if Seregil is right, then Kharon will have "accidentally" neglected to inform Micum of their whereabouts, and start subtly pumping them for information, all while maintaining a friendly exterior. When he figures out that the pair has copped to his game, things will get ugly, and an improvised rescue might have to be enacted.
In the second scenario, Kharon will turn out to be exactly what he was only playing at in the previous scene: a rich, kinky nobleman's son with a thing for gorgeous 'faie (and half-'faie). Again, he will start out friendly, greeting the pair in the Aurënfaie tongue, observing proper Aurënfaie greeting rituals, and so on. It will become apparent that he is obsessed with the Aurënfaie, and will not hesitate to go to disturbing lengths to find out *everything* about them. Alec and Seregil are the first bonded pair he's been able to observe together, so after observing them for a little while, he hits on the idea of figuring out how to break the talímenios bond and re-apply it to himself, thus creating incredibly loyal and devoted slaves. Naturally, this is neither easy nor pleasant for the subjects of his experiments, and again, a hasty exit is necessary.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-18 10:16 pm (UTC)How long will you be in London?
no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 09:56 am (UTC)I'll be here for about three months, until early December. I'm already thinking that it won't be long enough. XD
no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 08:33 pm (UTC)