unreal city

Most pointless post ever?

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 07:04:27 GMT

Disproportionately amusing, but the subject line on a spam email in my inbox is as follows: "Every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before". Is this some kind of bitter, disillusioned spambot that secretly yearns to be writing bad fanfic? Before what?

The problem with triangles

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 06:36:10 GMT

Reading some of the fics in Beyond at TFN is an eye-opener (in so many ways, in some instances): I never realised how much dislike there is for Jaina around the place. I went through some bad patches with her character, mostly in the petulant teenage stage of her development, but I never experienced this black loathing some seem to have for her. My (entirely unjustified) theory is that the endless love triangle of doom between she, Zekk and Jag is largely to blame: love triangles rarely reflect well on the characters involved, and are almost always going to alienate a segment of fandom. I don't know why writers fall back on the device so often. Fraught with problems unless handled with great care, it do be.

(You can always reveal a long-lost twin connection to break the triangle, of course, but that creates a whole new galaxy of awkwardness all of its own...)

In other news, have now been home for a few days. Caught a stomach bug from a fellow passenger on the plane who spent the whole flight being violently ill, but have more or less recovered from that fun souvenir. I'm planning on spending my remaining few days off doing as little as possible and catching up on internet things and reading and other such matters of vital importance. And possibly re-watching the OT and PT, because I haven't watched either in far too long.

Checking in from Christchurch

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 01:05:54 GMT

Currently in New Zealand and it's cold, y'all. Being from Queensland I have zero tolerance for cold weather, so am suffering through and being laughed at by locals for my layers of insulation and my scarf. The sights more than make up for the chilliness, though. There's so much variation down here -- you get mountains and sounds and fiords and all kinds of spectacular scenery. Queenstown was absolutely amazing.

The main part of the trip, a seven-day coach tour of south island, is over. It wasn't bad, although by the end I was more than ready to see the back of the bus. Currently completing the shopping stage of the trip in preparation for flying home tomorrow. (Argh, the plane. More sitting.)

Looking forward to getting home. Internet withdrawal is starting to kick in. And I suppose there's family and the like to see too. :p

Doctor Who: The Waters of Mars

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 14:27:43 GMT

Wow, that was... not what I was expecting. I loved it, but then I have a soft spot for heroes grappling with their dark sides, so no surprise there. The characterisation of the Doctor has been building up to this point for a while, and to be quite honest I'm actually glad that there was some acknowledgment and payoff to Ten's god complex after the show's danced around it for so long. The guy's been on a downward slope for a long time, and it's more marked than ever when there's not a companion around to buffer him, so the crazy didn't come entirely from left field. That said, I really hope that the arc is given some sort of resolution in the next special, because if that ten minute bit was it? Not good enough, RTD!

Whether the Doctor should ever have been set down this path from a writing POV is another question entirely, and a lot of the negative reaction to the episode seems to be weighed in the deeper issue of whether the characterisation is a betrayal of who he is. I... don't really have a response for that. Ten's guilt and uncertainty and pain are so deeply entangled in who he is that it's hard to separate them out. I can still look at him and see someone desperately struggling (and, to date, largely failing) to reconcile trauma and guilt and entropy and loss by trying to hold on to some kind of hope and belief, by redeeming himself through and in the people he connects with... but, you know, it's not much fun to see him suffering again and again. And when he's set up this repeated pattern of alienating people and removing their agency through holding on to them so tightly, through his arrogance and his involvement in the world of pain he's perpetuating, it's not much fun either. So, I don't know. I'm torn. I don't want to defend Ten, but I feel for him very strongly all the same. I'd certainly like for him to actually deal with the consequences of his self-flagellating and his hubris, and to heal and move forward.

Resolution for Ten in his last outing in December, plz? *fingers crossed*

Speaking of resolution, after being absurdly humid all day, all we got was some thunder and a brief shower of rain. Anti-climax much, weather?

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:09:37 GMT

Last exam DONE! Last for the semester, anyway. Possibly the last one for my undergrad degree, at least until I decide whether to graduate or take honours. (Optimistically assuming I pass, of course). But either way: YAYZORS. This last semester was really, really hard for whatever reason, and I'm very relieved it's over. And a little sad, but mostly relieved.

Now for the post-exam downer ('What? Free time? WHAT IS THIS?') and the wait for results. Hard to believe it's been nearly five years...

"It's a study in procrastination!"*

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 13:51:16 GMT

Thanks for the messages of condolence and support for Jess -- all were very much appreciated. I haven't been online as much as usual lately, between assessments for uni and trying to deal with various things, but with my final exam on Monday (and I should really do something about study for that, I guess) I'm hoping to get things straightened out.

... so. tired. at the moment. Doing an all-nighter to polish up an essay and then going to work all day is about as advisable as it sounds. But there are strange floaty, wait-am-I-dreaming side effects... which is not a good thing when you're handling money and trying to concentrate, so back to not advisable.

Heading to New Zealand for a week soon. (So soon! Too much to do!) Bought a camera in preparation today, and I'm a complete n00b to the digital camera thing, so this should interesting. So far I've successfully figured out how to charge the battery. I did initially try to load in it in the charger the wrong way, though. The diagrams were very unclear!

Have been rewatching Hornblower lately. Wow, this show. The costuming and production values are incredible. And how awesome is Pellew? (I can really see why there's widespread slashing of certain characters in the fandom though -- even without fandom exposure, I was wondering whether Archie was supposed to be a bit inappropriately fond of Hornblower. Although, to be fair, pretty much everyone in the show is inappropriately fond of Hornblower, because he's that awesome.) Whether you're familiar with the show or not, this recap/guide is worth checking out, because it's made of pure win.

I'm currently reading the new Wheel of Time book, The Gathering Storm, written by Brandon Sanderson based on late author Robert Jordan's intentions for the series. As far as I can tell (caveat because I haven't reread the series in quite a while), Sanderson's done an excellent job at keeping true to Jordan's characters and universe. And it's just fun to be back in this world, even with its eleventybillion characters and plotlines. I've spent so much time here that it floods back as soon as I open the book and see that map; reading a new book feels like being back with old friends because I know these characters so well. And I'm very, very glad that there is this opportunity to see the culmination of the world and stories that Jordan so exhaustively built, even if it is over the course of three books. At the same time, it's strange to think of the series being finished, given that it's been a constant for so long now.

(Specific reactions to the book so far mostly consist of going D: at Rand's highly justified angst and general emotional state, but that's not particularly unusual. Or spoilery, really. Rand's a perfect example of why you wouldn't want to be a mythic hero in a logical universe. Being expected to die saving the world is not conducive to a person's well-being.)

And, sadly, exam revision beckons. Though I think I might ignore it for the moment and get some sleep, as Javascript function programming is hard enough to look in the eye without bonus sleep deprivation.

*(... which is the punchline of a Ginger Meggs strip I read today that was so bizarrely appropriate it had to be quoted.)

Oh, SGA, what happened?

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 12:57:38 GMT

Even though I'm not involved in SGA fandom on an active basis, it bothers me inordinately to see some of the things that were coming out of it in the last season and are coming out of it now. I have a strong knee-jerk negative reaction to any character bashing -- I don't like it and can't stand reading it, no matter how I feel about the character concerned, and it's hard for me to buy any argument that tries to sell it to me as a valid method of fan engagement. Nor can I really parse it as justified because it's an age-old technique from the romance genre; so is rape as a prelude to true love, among many other devices, and you're not going to convince me that's a valid and acceptable fic trope. (And, undeniably, there are authors who would try.)

Maybe I'm oversensitive, but I'm tired of people refusing to see the implications of how female characters are so readily bashed (as in, attacked with vitriol via portrayal in fan fiction and in discussions) and dismissed as Mary Sues. And that's when they're not being marginalised and killed off meaninglessly in the text itself. (Hi, Star Wars EU!) Obviously people have individual reasons for disliking a character and to do so is not necessarily misogynistic, but speaking in terms of a broad and disturbingly common trend, it's frustrating to see the same arguments being made again and again in different fandoms.

In entirely unrelated news, I am somewhat ashamed to admit I bought And Another Thing..., the new Hitchhiker's Guide book written by not!Douglas Adams. I've been torn all along, because clearly Adams' writing is distinctive and his comedic voice is irreplaceable, but on the other hand that ending in Mostly Harmless always felt strangely incomplete, despite its, well, finality. I do think it might have been smarter to treat this as an offshoot rather than a continuation of the series, though.

So I hear New Zealand is nice this time of year

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 11:37:11 GMT

The level of ignorance stirred up by that blackface skit -- (I don't know how much coverage there has been overseas, but I hear it's picking up?) -- is cringeingly embarrassing. Fellow Australians: there's a history to blackface, and it's ugly and demeaning and not funny at all. Look it up.

One day Australia will stop being the weird cousin of the English-speaking world. I live in hope.

(I really shouldn't read comments on internet news articles, should I? I definitely shouldn't be reading comments on YouTube.)

Movie reactions: 500 Days of Summer and Surrogates

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 13:43:03 GMT

Vague reaction-type things below, not really very comprehensive but definitely spoilery:

So, Days of Summer. For starters, it would be nice if there was one female character in a movie somewhere who gets to say that she's not interested in or searching for a long term relationship and it's not merely verbiage to fill the time until someone shows her how wrong she is about what she wants. Yes, you can feel that way and change your mind and it's a perfectly valid choice, and yes, maybe circumstances will change and force a reassessment of previously held choices, but I'm tired of being shown that any woman who is happy being single is either lying to jerk the guy around, or waiting to be shown how wrong she is.

(Rant aside, not a bad movie, though it's less indie and hip than it tries to be, and doesn't really conceal all that well that its core message is actually Hollywood-standard romantic comedy fare.)

And Surrogates. Apart from the clumsy title and the plot holes in the core premise, which are so large you could march a large robot army through them, we also have in Surrogates a plot that's driven by a truckload of clunky exposition anvils. And, writers, there's something not right when, of the two major characters who aren't white, one turns out to be a robot controlled by a rich white guy and the other is bent and ends up killed. Oh, and you've also got your villain being someone in a wheelchair, who wants to kill everyone for, well, no apparent reason at all, especially when there is a much quicker and more logical way to dispose of the problem he really wants to address. Possibly some issues there.

Actually, there seems to be something of trend with robot movies that spells doom in terms of quality and/or success. Bicentennial Man springs to mind, for instance. I haven't seen I, Robot, but haven't heard good things. And AI may have escaped the curse, but even it was possibly a little overrated in retrospect. (I know it seems to go forever). I can imagine there are those who might even apply the formula to Star Wars (PT features robot armies, OT... doesn't.) Kind of a shame, because there are some great sci fi stories in that vein to be told.

And also, saw trailers for the Michael Jackson movie, which... kind of squicks me in an odd way, because hello, morbid? The hype around Dark Knight kind of squicked me for the same reason. "He's dead, you know" seems like such a creepy marketing tool. And yet it's effective. PEOPLE ARE STRANGE. I am unqualified to judge these things.

Another trailer showing was that of New Moon, in which Bella curls into a foetal ball because Edward is gooooone, and Jacob is suddenly very buff and furry. And I realised that the amount I know about these characters despite having never come within three feet of any of the books occasionally worries me.

collapses

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 14:32:58 GMT

Somehow managed to actually complete and submit the two assignments I had due today despite a week of work being ridiculously demanding. Still not entirely sure how it was accomplished, but lack of sleep was involved. I have a suspicion that I didn't cover enough sources in my literature review, although my lecturer is lucky to get coherent sentences, really. (Which, erm, is not a given. I'm trying to avoid rereading now that it's submitted, but I have a feeling there were some tortured arguments in there).

Just watched George Gently, because I love Beebs and its historical cop shows. The only problem is that now I want fanfic about Bacchus trying to impress Gently and Gently pretending he doesn't care about Bacchus screwing up his personal life and Gently's Tragically Dead Wife and Bacchus's Unfortunate Home Life and... there isn't any, because BBC historical cop show. Sigh.

And also, is there a show on television that's more skeevy than Two and a Half Men? I usually try to avoid it, but a certain channel plays it almost 24/7 and I keep coming across LOL WOMEN R SO DUMB when I'm changing channels. Low-denominator sitcom, I know, but it doesn't even try to pretend it's not hugely derogatory. And Charlie Sheen's manwhoring just makes me want to shower.

That would seem to fulfill my randomness quota for the day, I think, so I'm going to catch up on sleep.

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 12:54:15 GMT

If you're going to have music blaring so loudly from your party that the whole street can hear it, is ABBA's greatest hits collection really your best option?

*facepalms at neighbours*

Fic: Readjustment, 1/1

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 14:02:26 GMT

Title: Readjustment
Author: deaka
Rating: Safe for kids
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Adi Gallia, Yoda
Timeframe: Roughly around the Clone Wars
Warnings: None

Disclaimer: All hail Lucas; I'm just playing in his GFFA

Summary: War changes everything

A/N: The Clone Wars is not an era I'm highly familiar with, so if there are inaccuracies – and there probably will be, because wow, is that a complicated time in Star Wars history – I can only apologise profusely. I did attempt research, but Wookieepedia is sometimes more unhelpful than otherwise.

Crossposted at TheForce.Net and swfanfic

It was curious, Obi-Wan reflected, how a place could seem different by changing not at all. Sound was consumed by the high arches of the hall, the tread of his boots swallowed into an aching silence.

Silence was waiting. Silence was the beat between the whine and impact of explosives. Silence was the end of a battle, that suspended moment before survivors regrouped and weapons deactivated, before the dead were counted and named.

He could remember a time when silence was peace, but it seemed long ago.

He nodded his greeting to a group of passing Jedi. A few, like him, were haggard, and wore their robes as though they didn’t quite fit. The others carried a peaceful air of clean invulnerability. They were the ones sequestered in the Temple, scholarly and dusty; they were those who had not fought.

Anakin had vanished almost as soon as they made groundfall on Coruscant, evading the press of holoreporters that he used to pause and grin for. He would not be back until morning. Obi-Wan would pretend not to notice the absence, as he always did; in doing so, he was, perhaps, complicit to a violation of the spirit of the Code, but his authority was more spiritual than realised with Anakin no longer his apprentice, and overlooking Anakin’s lapses therefore involved merely bending morals rather than breaking them. A relief, if Obi-Wan was honest with himself.

Anakin, of course, would take his silence for obliviousness, and would congratulate himself for the subterfuge. In many ways, he was nothing if not predictable.

Obi-Wan turned the corner, passing through a patch of dying sunlight. Adi Gallia stepped from a meditation chamber ahead of him, her dark gaze falling on him as she turned. She smiled and her sense shifted, warming in greeting as she lifted a hand. “Obi-Wan,” she said.

“Adi,” he returned, offering her a slight nod.

It was only because he’d known her for so long that he was able to read the tiredness in her face. “It’s good to see you back,” she said. “It must be over a month.”

“Three, actually,” he said, offering a slight smile.

“Have you heard the latest from Muunilinst?” She was carrying datapads and a handful of flimsies. One of the datacards slipped, and Obi-wan caught it and the flimsi that fell with it. His reflexes were better than ever; sometimes, blinking awake in a portable shelter because a night bug had settled on his leg or someone had walked past outside, he wondered what it had felt like not to be forever on alert.

He held onto the card and flimsi, as she seemed overloaded. “Muunilinst?”

“I don’t suppose you have,” she said with a faint frown. “There have been indications that the Separatists are considering another push.”

Obi-Wan felt a brief, bleak sense of something too resigned to be called dismay. “Surely not,” he said. “The battle in which they lost Muunilinst was costly enough. Attempting to re-take it would be foolhardy.”

“Are you trying to assign reason to our fickle opponents?” Adi lifted an eyebrow. “At this point they are only murmurings. SBI is working to prevent it becoming anything more. We can’t afford a large-scale defence there now.”

“SBI doing something worthwhile? How novel.”

Adi flicked him a look that held a sizable portion of concern. “We would be in a difficult position without the intelligence the Senate Bureau provides.”

“I’ll concede their usefulness,” Obi-Wan said. “But I can’t endorse all of their methods.”

Adi pressed her lips together. They passed from the meditation corridor into the main hall, the air cooling in the vast open space. “There are rumours,” she said. “You’ve seen proof?”

Obi-Wan was silent, unsure how to answer. There wasn’t proof, but he’d heard and seen more of the galaxy since Geonosis than he had in the years of missions beforehand, in a strange and often troubling sense. Few of the Masters had been active with the level of entrenched consistency of his involvement in the war, and it was difficult to explain exactly what was occurring out there. “I believe, for the most part, that they work for good,” he said at last.

“Let us hope that they succeed on Muunilinst,” Adi said.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed.

Adi halted at the site of the turbolift leading up to the Council chambers. Understanding that she was passing that way, Obi-Wan handed back her datacard and flimsy. She surprised him by catching his hand, her long fingers warm as they encircled his. “It’s good to see you in person,” she said, her eyes showing a strange tension. “Take care when you’re out there, Obi-Wan. Too many have been lost.”

Obi-Wan blinked, for the pain he saw in her eyes and felt in her sense was not a general sense of loss. Rather it was specific, personal, shaded with memories that rippled and drew him in. Not wanting to dwell on any implication of that, not wanting to see any reflection of the mourning in her dark blue eyes, he squeezed her hand briefly and pulled away. “I am always careful,” he said, showing her the barest hint of a smile. “With Anakin around, I have to be doubly so, to cover the both of us.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, recovering as though her slip had never occurred. “How is your former apprentice?”

“As maddening as ever,” Obi-Wan said.

“You sound proud,” she said, lips curving faintly.

“I am, I suppose.” Another Master – Yoda or Mace, perhaps – might have seen fit to rebuke him for the admission, but he knew she understood his meaning.

“Just make sure he knows it.”

“I know how to handle Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Perhaps it was defensive, but the reflex to deflect any comment and criticism of his training of Anakin was an old one, and was by now deeply ingrained. He tried to soften it by adding, “His ego is healthy enough without my assistance, generally speaking.”

She inclined her head. “I’ll see you in the meeting later,” she said, as he began to move away. He lifted a hand, and heard the turbolift doors hiss closed.

He continued on without a destination in mind, breathing the air that smelled of ancient stone and old files. A group of younglings passed, filing sedately in a line behind a young Jedi. Anakin had been irrepressible at that age, voraciously curious about the Force, at a loss to understand the thousand cultural intricacies that were taken for granted by those raised within the Temple. He’d been by turns inappropriately expressive and suddenly, sharply withdrawn, a legacy of either his disruptive childhood or the Council’s open mistrust. He still had his foibles, but Obi-Wan was confident he’d trained Anakin away from the worst of that volatility, at least.

His feet had led him to an arched entryway, beyond which lay a blooming array of wild huja flowers that vanished into a profusion of leafy blue-green vegetation. The door plaque was inscribed with an old proverb he didn’t have to look at to know, the curled edges of ancient script-form Basic barely legible and irregularly spelt as they proclaimed that all matter held the Force, as the Force held all life. He stepped inside.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was as familiar as the controls of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, despite the length of time that had passed since he’d last entered the enclave. The fountains created a background ambience though they were not yet visible, their muted susurration trickling through the trees and vines. The air was finely moist, carrying the smell of water and clean dirt.

The space was commonly used as a meditative area, but Obi-Wan encountered no beings as he rounded the path toward the waterfalls. It was nearing the hour at which most Jedi took their main meal, but he could remember when it was common for Jedi to wander through the paths of the enclave no matter the time, open to the heightened awareness of the Force that such a profusion of life invited.

It was the room he most often pictured when he thought of the Temple while far away, its quietude and solemn peace somehow more fitting as an embodiment of his home and the Order itself than the echoing halls and lofty heights of the Temple’s superstructure.

And yet – walking through it now, he felt strangely adrift. It was a sensation akin to returning to a familiar room to find furniture marginally askew, a subtle wrongness that was undeniable and yet difficult to pinpoint – except that perfect memory recall, for a Jedi, was a simple task, and training in awareness of detail began from infancy, so no Jedi would fail to notice misaligned furniture. And Obi-Wan could see nothing out of place or missing from the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

It was exactly as he remembered it. Therein, he thought ironically, lay the difficulty.

The path forged out of the trees, trailing around a broad pool and wandering off into the upright feathervines on the other side. Obi-Wan left the path to walk around to the base of the waterfall feeding the crystal-blue pool, coming to a halt as the mist drifted to film his hair and skin.

He could remember one other time, many years ago, when the Room of Fountains had felt like a different place and when, for a few months, he’d avoided coming here. A fight with a one-time fellow student had resulted in that boy’s tumble and death by this very waterfall, blood spurting in its way, becoming gentle tendrils in the water. That was a long time ago, he thought. He’d seen a great deal of blood fall since.

“Master Kenobi,” said a voice behind him as he stood, hands clasped at his back, staring at the white spray of the water.

He smiled, a little. “Master Yoda,” he said, turning with a bow.

“Expected to find you here, I did,” Yoda said. He looked smaller and older than Obi-Wan remembered, his bearing slightly compressed, as if carrying great weight.

“That surprises me, Master, because I had intended no specific destination until I arrived at this room.”

“Surprise you, it should not,” Yoda said irritably. “Blind yourself, you may be; blind, I am not.”

Obi-Wan wondered what that meant, but inclined his head and turned to face the waterfall.

“Troubled, you are,” Yoda said, coming to stand beside him.

“Tired, Master. It was a long journey.”

Yoda’s sense was even vaster than the profusion of life in the green enclave around them, but he seemed preoccupied. Yoda and Anakin were alike in power alone; Anakin was a burning, alive presence, where Yoda was an ocean, implacable and yet changeable, depths unknown.

“A very long journey, it has been,” Yoda said, voice low. He was looking across the water of the pool, seeming to watch the shadows on the other side.

Obi-Wan sat down on the carved rocks at the edge of the pond. His tunic and cloak hung against his skin, cool from the spray. He blinked moisture from his eyelashes.

“Share what troubles you, you must,” Yoda said. “Hm?”

The gentleness was enough to splinter Obi-Wan’s reserve. He shifted his shoulders, feeling the absence of his armour, those hard lines that kept the body straight. “The Temple seems different, more so each time I return. And yet it has not changed.”

Yoda looked at him gravely. He went on, “I find the peace that I used to value here is more difficult to come by. The Temple’s slow pace seems hollow. The seclusion seems risk-laden and indefensible. Where there was serenity and security here once, I can no longer find it. Everything is underlain with where I have come from.”

Yoda’s preoccupation had deepened. His dark eyes were distant, peering through Obi-Wan at some other place. They refocused slowly.

“I don’t know what to make of it,” Obi-Wan said apologetically. “Most likely it’s of little relevance or significance to anyone but myself.”

Yoda tilted his head, thoughtful, though still somewhat remote. “Change, do the eyes that see. Part of growing, it is. And yet I do not think that is all this is. Great has been the cost of this war. Great is the burden to the Jedi, in ways we are still counting.” For a brief moment, he radiated a sadness so deep that Obi-Wan drew in a breath, reflexive, but then it was gone again. “Value highly your judgement, I do,” Yoda said. “Look to you, do many of the Jedi.”

Obi-Wan felt a spell of weariness, betraying him for an instant before he controlled it. “I have no intention of wavering, Master.”

Yoda looked at him, expression softening slightly. “Know this already, I do.” He was silent for a time. “No answer, do I have, for your trouble. The trouble of the Order, it is, for the few perceptive enough to sense it. Watching I am. Waiting.”

“For what?”

Yoda’s eyes were as dark as space as he looked at Obi-Wan. “Know that, I do not.”

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, wet under his palm with the cool spray. “If there is anything I can do…”

Yoda looked at him for a moment as though Obi-Wan were a stranger. Then he smiled. “Doing it already, you are,” he said.

Obi-Wan frowned at this unnecessary vagueness.

Yoda grunted as he gathered himself, leaning on his stick as he straightened. “Leave you in solitude, I will not. Come, eat, you must, before the Council convenes.”

His manner was businesslike. Obi-Wan knew he would get no further answers from him – if, indeed the ancient Master had any further to give, which in many ways was more frightening than anything Yoda had said. He rose to his feet. “Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said wryly. “At once, Master.”

Yoda huffed a chuckle, and led the way out through the silence of the trees.

---end---

Readings: A Slight Trick of the Mind, and FOTJ: Abyss

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 12:34:19 GMT

Been meaning to post a review of this for a while but have recently read A Slight Trick of the Mind, by Mitch Cullen. It takes on the premise of Sherlock Holmes and who he was, both in the Doyle canon and as a literary figure, through an exploration of the life of a much older Holmes eking out his retirement in the wake of WWII on a rural farm in Sussex.

The novel itself is one of those that an individual reader will either love or hate; the pace is slow and the atmosphere is opulent. There's also a good deal of symbolism layered into the themes of growing old and the interaction of memory and story, which plays an important role into the unravelling of the plot. Is it pretentious? A little. But it's also highly readable, if you don't mind the pace.

It's not the kind of book I would normally be drawn to, but I've long been fascinated with that early detective fiction era. Especially Holmes, because for all that the Doyle stories themselves helped define a genre, when reading them you tend to find that they're not plausible or particularly nuanced, they're fanciful and formulaic and the characters repetitive -- and yet they, and Holmes, do have something that continues to seize the imagination, something that's not quite definable. They do stand at that turning point in the social reality of crime, but there's something about Holmes and his place in Western popular culture that speaks to a more intrinsic function.

Cullin explores that in A Slight Trick of the Mind, and he does it well. He touches on Holmes's arrogance and his detachment, his friendship with Watson (whom Holmes staunchly defends against portrayals as an 'oafish, blundering fool' in the third chapter, winning my undying gratitude -- *grumbles about Laurie R. King*), his delineation of the rational from the everyday and his struggle to apply logic to things that have no solution or meaning. It's a book about Holmes, but it's also about how those things apply in a universal sense, and how Holmes as a literary figure embodies those qualities. It's thoughtful and slow and profound, but if you like linear plots and literal, nonindulgent narratives, it's probably not for you.

I can't quite figure out why the publishers felt the need to put 'A Novel' on the cover and spine of my paperback copy of the book, though. It always annoys me. Is it for that extra edge of gravitas, or is there a strange inability in the ranks of the reading public to distinguish between the fiction and nonfiction areas of libraries and bookshops that I don't know about?

Have also got my hands on Abyss. I haven't actually read Omen yet, so have only skimmed the Luke and Ben bits. A few quick things:

1. I have a seriously bad feeling about the unknown, evilly lecherous blonde lady in the mists who wants some desperate lovin' from Luke, all hunger and insistence, whom Luke feels is familiar as she calls him into her Cave of Lust 'like a lover in need of a visit'. I just... I hope we're not going down the Callista route, because I kind of think Callista deserves better than to end up like this.

2. The chat with ghost-Anakin: I admit I'm torn. I can't hate it entirely, because Luke's guilt and joy at seeing him were touching, and Ben's awkward "Well, I don't know you, but I'll make nice" was fine. But Luke then proceeding to fangirl all over Anakin as The Best Jedi Ever, Whose Like We Shall Not See Again? Oh please no. He was a kid, and he had flaws, and airbrushing them to make him SuperJedi isn't honouring his memory.

3. Similar, with ghost-Mara: Okay, this was less awful that I was worried it would be. In fact, it had a few points that were really well done. I do have strong objections to "I went after Jacen as a killer" and "He wasn't a Sith Lord when I went after him". First, so what?, and second, does it matter whether he'd given himself a Sith name yet, when he was torturing people to death and ordering executions? This retcon thing with Mara's death continues to perplex. She acted unwisely, yes, but you're not going to convince me that what she did was wrong, prothors.

4. Similar, with ghost-Jacen: I... really don't know with this one. I quite like that he was still grey and conflicted, I like that Ben didn't know how to react to him, I like that Jacen was still playing games. It felt lacking, though. And damnation? That's a really odd thing to leave hanging there.

So, less of the Denning!fail than I expected. I'm sure he'll manage to screw around with Leia and Jaina, though, and remind me many times that HAN IS NOT OLD, OKAY? when I actually read the book properly. I did note that Luke's odd tendency, prevalent in Denning books, to run Han down for no apparent reason whatsoever. (Perhaps I can fanwank that he's paranoid about Han being close to Ben, given how badly he overrode Han's relationship with Anakin and Jacen when they were teenagers? Hence his tendency to emphasise to Ben that WE ARE JEDI AND SO MUCH BETTER THAN HAN THAT WE SHOULDN'T LISTEN TO HIS SO-CALLED WISDOM BECAUSE PLAINLY HE KNOWS NOTHING, LOL. Hmm.)

The Thief series and general non-spoilery gushing

Sun, 23 Aug 2009 09:26:21 GMT

Have just finished The Thief, The Queen of Attolia and The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner, and am currently in an inarticulate state of utter adoration for the series. I'd seen it recommended in a few places over the years and finally ordered The Thief from Amazon a few weeks ago. It was good, but not great -- interesting fantasy world (based on ancient Greece, with some retooling of religion and geography), characters that teased their way into roundedness, a fairly standard quest plot with a twist that was well executed but ultimately fairly predictable. I couldn't see exactly what all the fuss was about, but it was decent enough that I ordered the second and third books. And within about two chapters of the second book I was thoroughly hooked. By KoA I'd completely lost the ability to put the book down except to eat and sleep, and that wasn't even a certainty.

And, you know, the worst part is that I can't even explain why I liked it so much without giving spoilers, which would undermine the careful reveal. The central relationship, though, is one of the most striking I've come across in a while, difficult and complex and surprisingly touching, and it's handled with a great deal of delicacy. And did I mention I completely loved the characters? Including female characters who are allowed to be complicated and powerful and intricate? (I will admit having minor issues with one element of the last book re: gender issues, but I think it's acknowledged in the book as a product of the worldbuilding and society and I'm therefore kind of undecided on whether it bothers me on a meta level).

But anyway, the series was a great read, and I don't think it will be too long before I'll be rereading. Apparently there's a fourth book coming out next year, which promises further goodness, although I hate having to wait between books in a series. Possibly fanfic has spoiled me for life in that regard. :p

Moral relativism and the DN/LOTF arc (yes, it's that fascinating)

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 15:09:03 GMT

All my decent fic ideas lately seem to be set around LotF, which has lead me to give in and go back to the beginning (which, for LotF, I'm counting as the Dark Nest series) to try to get some concepts straight. Which in turn leads me to the overwhelming need to unburden myself as to some of the more problematic areas in the themes the DN/LotF arc raises. Because I am a merciful soul, I will place said unburdening under a cut to spare the eyes of the unwary. :p

Ten chapters in, and I've noted so far:

a) Luke and Mara are really, really terrible at parenting. They leave Ben in the care of a droid, knowing he can and has switched the droid off whenever he feels like it. On Ben happening to come out and admit this, Luke told him not to, and being eight years old, I'm sure Ben's going to obey perfectly. *eyeroll* And, um, Ben is really quite annoyingly bratty, and Luke and Mara generally respond to his rudeness, if they do at all, as though he's an adult asking reasonable questions. He's eight.

b) The "moral relativism" of the "modern" Jedi order in DN is ludicrous, and because it plays such an important role in the LotF, I'm trying to figure out exactly why.

It's clear when you have this:

“Right and wrong from whose viewpoint?" Luke countered. "Right and wrong, good and evil, light and dark – most of the time, they are illusions that prevent us from perceiving the greater reality. The Jedi have learned to distance themselves from these illusions, to seek the truth beneath the words."

"We have heard about this new Force of yours," Raynar said. "[...]The Jedi have grown blind to the dark side."

"Not at all," Luke said. "We have learned to see it more clearly than ever, to recognise that the dark side and the light side spring from the same well – inside us.”

... in which Luke's argument is messy at best, followed closely by:

Luke: “Because he's a Jedi... And he was trained in our old tradition – to serve life and protect it, wherever he found the need.”

Han: "Yeah, well, he won't be protecting much life when that border conflict gets out of hand."

Saba: [...] "Nature is cruel for a reason, and Raynar has upset the balance."

Mara: “The law of unintended consequences. That’s why it’s better not to intervene. A modern Jedi would have held himself apart and studied the situation first.”

Leia: “Are we sure that’s a good thing? … How many beings would have died while a modern Jedi studied the situation?”

Luke: “Does it matter? A Jedi serves the Force, and if his actions interfere with the balance of the Force—”

Leia: “I know… I just miss the days when all this was simple.”

... when Luke Skywalker is arguing that it doesn't matter how many people die so long as a philosophical point is being served, something's not right. Clearly it's written that way, which is kind of intriguing in itself, because it suggests that Caedus was, in fact, something of a symptom of a wrongness that was pervading the Jedi as a whole. Come to think of it, this earlier section is interesting in that light also:

Raynar turned to Luke. "What do the Jedi seek?"

"Peace," Luke answered instantly.

... given that Jacen's ostensible motivation for becoming Caedus was a desire for galactic peace. It certainly fits Jacen's character to be vulnerable to the influence of extreme doctrine and ideology and sensitive to the state of the Order, as his struggles have reflected what's happening to the Jedi on a broader scale a few times in the past. And Luke's Jedi are incredibly arrogant in DN and LotF; in TJK, Luke himself casually invades minds for no reason other than to demonstrate that he can on several occasions, although I don't know if this is supposed to seen as troubling or if it's just Denning's typical overuse of the Force at play.

From a meta perspective, though, there are all kinds of problems with this whole concept. Not only is it handled in an extremely clumsy and hamfisted way that lambasts any hope of subtlety and makes no apology about condemning shades of grey as moral decay, but it is extraordinarily unlikely that these characters, at this stages of their lives, would be buying into such an implausibly off-kilter philosophy. Mara endorsing a belief system where there is no light and dark? Luke handwaving innocent deaths as irrelevant? Leia accepting that response? Han having no argument? I can't buy it. Now if it was Jacen and the younger generation, exposed to a hugely devastating war as adolescents, struggling pull enough normality around them to build lives as adults, who were pushing this philosophy in opposition to the older generation of Jedi -- that would have been easier to accept and might have made a believable point of conflict.

There's just something slightly off about the threads that run through the DN/LotF galaxy, which is a shame because there's a great deal there that's worthy of being told. The Solo and Skywalker families being dysfunctional, characters being flawed? Fine, but make it work. I hate being pulled out of what I'm reading constantly because the characters are behaving in ways that don't make sense. It annoys me having to ask why they would do something, or not do something, and have no answer given in the text. Why are Luke and Mara so irresponsible as parents? Are they supposed to be that way, or is an accidental consequence of the necessities of the story? If they are supposed to be, why not acknowledge it directly? Why does Mara make up a thousand excuses for Jacen's homicidal behaviour rather than whisk Ben away as fast as she can? What is up with Leia and Han? LotF made such a mess of them I don't know what's going on there, and while I haven't read Omen yet, nothing subsequent has done anything to help. I'm trying to erase all memory of Millennium Falcon, in fact, so that I still retain some fondness toward the characters.

And I kind of love the irony in Karen Traviss deciding to end her involvement with Star Wars because of canon retcons. Considering that everything of hers that I've read has involved considerable retconning to not only events but to characterisation, philosophy and the underlying ideology of the entire fictional universe, I can't say I'm sorry to see her leave. Taken in isolation, her writing itself wasn't terrible, but she was so profoundly unsuited it wasn't funny. (Unless, of course, you believe Mandos truly belong at the centre of moral uprightness in the Star Wars universe, in which case I will leave you to your mourning).

Must catch up with some vigs that need to be cross-posted here, but for now I think I'll get some sleep or else I'll resemble the living dead in the morning...

When fanfic attacks

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 12:50:25 GMT

I really dislike having the misfortune of clicking into a fanfic whose sole purpose is to 'teach X a lesson', X usually being the half of a scorned OTP who ended up with someone else, and who must be punished for this transgression. They're invariably OOC for both parties, and generally are in some form misogynistic -- and, people, if a person nurses a secret love interest but never lets the other party know or makes any move to signal their interest, it's really not the other party's fault the relationship never happened. *facepalm*

And don't even get me started on the comments that follow such fics. Character humiliation and belittlement is best done in a group setting, apparently.

I guess I kind of fail at the whole concept of character bashing and some of the crazy that surrounds OTPs, because this just makes me very annoyed. But then so does the flip side, where a successful OTP must be shown as better than any other relationship either person has had ever by putting previous romantic interests in their place and proving them unworthy.

Fandom: I must be doing it wrong. o.O

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 01:23:42 GMT

Anakin Solo Resurrected?

I laughed when I saw this, because oh, Denning, no. Flow-walking is and always has been a ridiculously stupid contrivance, but even its elastic plausibility couldn't stretch to the believable resurrection of a character. And - seriously? Make it positive? You subvert everything decent about Jacen's character, turn him into a villain half the galaxy mocks, and then have his family hunt him down and murder him without the slightest qualm -- but hey, everyone, we'll give you back the perfect Solo offspring, so everything's all right now?

I'm wary of the way Anakin's taken on saintlike proportions in the Cult of Anakin sections of fandom, and of the way he was written before his death as being occasionally more awesome than everyone just because, but I liked him and was saddened by his death. That doesn't mean I want to see it undone. Anakin's death was possibly the only major character death of the EU that actually was powerful and had a semblance of impact and meaning, so to undo that would just putting the final nail in any hope that the NJO had any point whatsoever. It would have essentially been a giant 'Screw you all' from Del Ray, proof that the only overreaching theme or emotional continuity to the EU is to sell books. Who cares about the characters or the universe, you know?

Do you think if they went ahead with this -- and notice Denning's reason for why they didn't is the 'can of worms' it would open, not the fact it was stupid and would have been narratively wrong -- they'd also reverse Mara's laughably meaningless death at some point down the line? Maybe they could kill off a couple of other characters and then bring her back as a consolation prize. Yayzors.

Fic: Remembrance -- (Mm, spam)

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 11:14:40 GMT

I have completely failed at replying to anything lately, but if it's any consolation I offer fic: Remembrance, a Lando & Mara fic that is a little Lando/Mara, posted here at marafics and here at TFN, and maybe FFN at some point when I can be bothered wrestling with document uploading. Turned out more ponderous than I expected, but the EU's treatment of Lando has really been bothering me lately. And also, I have a soft spot for Lando'n'Mara, because their friendship-bonding-ambiguous relationship never really got a fair go in the EU. And also, it means I can use one of fialleril's awesome Lando (with complementary cape!) icons.

In other news, I have little news. Narrowly avoided disaster at work because someone thought it would be amusing to stick pieces of wood with nails attached behind my tyres (!!) so maybe I should reconsider using the public car park. Currently reading The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Volume 1, which is excellent so far. For some reason I had thought it was fantasy, although I have no idea where I got that impression, so it took some mental adjustment when I realised that this was actually 18th-century Boston.

Her looking down is DNA programming asking for your help!

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 11:05:15 GMT

Oh, wow. Googling 'male body language flirting' for detailed info for a fic certainly turns up some ~~horrifying~~ unexpected results. This site just about takes the cake, I think. I particularly like "In most cases the women may only very briefly make eye contact, then disconnect by looking off to the RIGHT or LEFT. They may even shift in their chair so their body is facing more away from you. That indicates 'no interest' right now. Don't take their disinterest personally. They may not need a man, so forget them." OR MAYBE THEY'RE FREAKED OUT BY YOUR OTT EYE CONTACT AND WEIRD FORTRESS OF POSSESSIONS, I DON'T KNOW.

I want to feel sorry for any guy who would take this advice seriously, but I don't know that someone who thinks "Look with pleasure! They love it!" is valid advice really deserves pity. *facepalm*

The curse of the woobie and other fannish ramblings

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 13:40:11 GMT

If there's one thing that guaranteed to make me squirm, it's infantisation of adult characters in fic. Luke and Han friendship fics feature this all too often. If I read one more where Luke cries, whimpers, tells Han he's scared, or otherwise behaves with OOC levels of childlike neediness, I will... probably cringe and hit the back button. (Fear my clicking!) It pops up in 'ship fic, too, and in fact I have a sneaking suspicion it's an old romance trope refitted to new purposes. I know people like their comfort!fic, and I've got to admit I've read and liked a few in my time, but it has to be done in a way that handles the characters with a modicum of dignity. I mean, really, can anyone seriously see Han hanging around to devotedly mop Luke's angst-ridden tears? The mind boggles.

Work today was made more pungent than usual by a dead possum in the ceiling, which was after much consultation eventually located and removed. And there was much rejoicing, because -- pungent. And none of my stories lately seem to want to end properly, which is a touch frustrating.

Flicked through Omen. Mentions of Mara are a good thing, though Golden seems to have an unfortunate tendency to refer to characters' hair and eye colour quite frequently and gratuitously, as in 'Luke quirked a blond eyebrow, blah Ben auburn hair'. That usually sets off alarm bells, but I'll give her the benefit of doubt a little longer. Her Voyager work is mostly a haze, but I didn't dislike it, and at least she didn't kill off any major characters (looking at you, subsequent Voyager writers). I'm also re-reading Invincible for fic-related purposes, apparently because I like inflicting such things on myself. *facepalm* Jaina's POV is much better there than in Revelation, but there's still some oddness in how she views her parents and in Denning's inevitable strange quirks. (Ack, the next FOTJ book is Denning, isn't it?) I'd like to see some of the issues that book raises (Ben's torture and amazingly speedy recovery, Luke's use of power and his parallels with Jacen) properly explored in canon, but whether they will be is anyone's guess.

'Here lies an anachronism in the vague expectation of eternity'

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 06:05:25 GMT

Dorothy L. Sayers just can't be surpassed for quotes like this: "...if you will kindly step aside with me into this convenient field, it will give me great pleasure to strangle you scientifically in several positions".

Peter/Harriet -- theirloveissotrue. :p

"These are the voyages..."

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 09:30:25 GMT

So, O wise flist, Trek fanfic. Does anyone have any recs for reboot-fic? Probably gen at the moment, though I wouldn't mind decently written het. I don't think I'm quite prepared for Kirk/everyone under this and every other sun just yet. :p

And while we're at it, does anyone have any older Trek recs? Quality fanfic for Trek seems to be quite difficult to get hold of, or perhaps I just don't know where to look. I imagine that, being an older fandom, it's spread around the interwebs to a greater extent than some of the newer fandoms. I know TNG, VOY and ENT well, TOS relatively well, and DS9 not at all.

In other news, I got FOTJ: Omen and the first two Rebel Force books today. On flick-through, Luke, Leia and Han seem to be better characterised in the RF books than in recent EU, so I'm curious about what the books will be like. I think the last YA Star Wars book I bought was Zorba the Hutt's Revenge, so surely things can only go up. :p

Freedom, or something like it

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 11:04:57 GMT

I'm so relieved the semester is over, because I thought the final exam would kill me. Four months of foundation psych doesn't easily compress into a week of study. This would teach me to pace my study properly.... except I resolve to do that at the start of ever semester and it lasts about two weeks.

I did find a few interesting notes, fandom-wise, in the process of study: "Separation from a parent in childhood makes people more likely to develop PTSD after exposure to a traumatic event in adulthood" -- which covers, well, just about all the main characters in the GFFA. But it did make me think in particular of Anakin and of the Solo kids. (Hi, Jacen!) Also there was some interesting stuff there about how a parent's attachment styles from their own childhood can affect their child's attachment, which sparked some ideas for a Mara and Ben vig, something I've been wanting to write for a while.

.... obviously a productive study session. :p

Just finished re-reading Catherine Jinks' Pagan's Crusade et al series, my sanity-preserver over study and exam period. Have also finished Mike Ripley's latest, Angel Unaware, the new Dalziel & Pascoe novel, Midnight Fugue (which I continually want to misread as 'fudge' *facepalm*), and Dorothy L. Sayer's Unnatural Death. Angel and Dalziel & Pascoe felt a bit flat, though that could just be exam burn-out, but Peter Wimsey is as charming as ever with his rambling monologues and not-entirely-healed war trauma.

Off to catch up on... just about everything.

Sun, 14 Jun 2009 04:35:12 GMT

The trailer for the new Sherlock Holmes flick is some kind of joke, right? It's like crack!fic on film! I'm not sure whether to laugh or despair.

"Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love-story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid."

... I don't think you can blame Watson for this one, Holmes.

(Maybe it can be explained away as one big cocaine trip of Holmes's?)

Fic: "Detention" -- Luke, Jacen, 1/1

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 11:10:34 GMT

Title: "Detention"
Characters: Luke Skywalker, Jacen Solo
Setting: Yavin 4 praxeum
Timeframe: Somewhere around the YJK/JJK era... before NJO, anyway.

Summary: Because the praxeum must have some equivalent to being sent to the headmaster's office.

A/N: I've had a hankering to write Jacen ever since finishing Invincible a few months ago. Starting with in the pre-traumatised-and-evil days seemed easiest, even if the YJK books are a hazy mist. (I seem to recall limb severings and a lot of bad puns...) Timeframe inaccuracies may therefore result. :p

X-posted @ TFN and swfanfic

He’d accounted for operational funds, equipment and plant purchase and maintenance, HoloNet access charges, shipment of uniforms – premade and customisable – and weapons supply and maintenance. He’d even included commercial passenger freight and hire of private vessels. So what had he missed?

“Uncle Luke?”

Luke keyed back to the top of the listing on his datapad. “Mm?”

Jacen rustled. “Do I have to stay much longer?”

“Have you finished your work?”

“Yes.”

Luke held up a hand, not looking up. “I’ll check it for you.”

“Mostly yes.”

“You mean, no?” Luke spared a reproving look in his nephew’s direction.

Jacen fidgeted. “I already know all of this.”

“All of it? That’s impressive. What are the main law systems in use in the Core?”

Jacen let forth an expressive sigh, which to Luke’s highly attuned ear sounded exactly like teenage petulance. He watched Jacen’s gaze edge back down toward his datapad, then flick back up. “Coruscant,” Jacen said, “Camaas, Corellia.”

Luke keyed to the next line of his figures. “Law systems, not planets.”

Jacen slumped. Then he straightened. “The main justice system,” he said with a hint of smugness, “is natural justice. And the light side of the Force. All law systems are in service to it.”

Luke looked over his datapad, his eyebrow quirked. “And who defines what natural justice is?”

“No one. It just is. Everyone follows their conscience, and it’s led by natural justice and the guidance of the Force. Which operates in all things—”

“Yes.” Luke cut off the beginnings of a familiar speech. “But what happens when you have one being whose culture and beliefs lead them to judge that revenge is honourable? Do you allow that their conscience is clear, and that natural justice is served? Or does natural justice rule that for one person to kill another is immoral, regardless of extenuating circumstance?”

“Well, revenge is wrong,” Jacen said, in the tones of the blatantly obvious.

“What if person killed was guilty of many deaths? And would continue to murder unless stopped? Their death would save the lives of future victims.”

Jacen opened his mouth, narrowed his eyes at nothing, and closed his mouth. “Well,” he said. “Maybe—” He stopped and chewed his bottom lip in thought. Then he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, sinking back into the chair.

“You raise a worthwhile point,” Luke said, “but in service of a poor end.” He nodded to the ‘pad and cards on Jacen’s desk. “Back to work.”

“But don’t you think that justice is bigger than statutes and charters and… this?” Jacen waved the datapad.

“I think that I set the study of Core region law systems for a reason,” Luke said. “And I further think that you’re supposed to be in here as punishment.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not fair at all.”

“Pardon?” Luke said.

“Nothing,” Jacen muttered. He leaned over his datapad.

Luke tried to find where he’d been up to. He pulled one of the readouts from the desk over. Emergency funds available to Jedi in various planetary accounts—no, that was under operational expenses. Medical equipment and expenses? He flicked through, found nothing, sent off a message to Cilghal, then found the report she’d forwarded a week ago and cancelled his message.

“Uncle Luke?”

“Yes, Jacen?”

“What happens to a bantha if it goes into the rain?”

“It wouldn’t,” Luke said absently. “The fur’s protection against sandstorms, which is about the only real weather condition…” He looked up to meet an exasperated stare. “Oh. What, then?”

“It gets wet.”

Luke sighed.

“Tenel Ka thought that was funny.”

“Mm,” Luke said. “Keep working, Jacen, and you might get out of here in time to see her again before you go grey.”

Cilghal had sent him a confused response. Luke sent something placating back, and went back to his columns of figures, half-wishing that Mara were here. For all the normal reasons, and—if he was honest, and speaking in precise terms of right here and right now—because she was frighteningly good at this kind of thing.

Now if he took in asset depreciation …

“Uncle Luke,” Jacen said. “What do you get if you cross an eopie with a krayt dragon?”

Luke gave him a wary look. “I don’t know.”

“Me neither, no one wanted to get close enough to check.” Jacen marked a piece of flimsi and screwed up his nose. “I don’t know if that works. What are eopies, exactly?”

“They’re hairless things, ugly, eat weeds mostly,” Luke said. “Jacen, are you writing jokes over there?”

The flimsi slid under another sheet as Jacen assumed a highly guilty expression. “Jokes? I don’t write them, they come to me on the spot.”

“Right,” Luke said. “That piece of flimsi, please. You can have it back later.”

Jacen looked torn. “I won’t tell a soul,” Luke promised. “Can I have the flimsi?”

Dragging his feet, Jacen brought it over. Luke glanced over the scrawled writing, smiled, and put it under his sheets. “They’re good. Why the Tatooine theme?”

Jacen shrugged, not quite covering a pleased edge. “I was reading about Tatooine after what you said about the moisture vaporators the other day,” he said. “I thought it sounded interesting.”

“Ah,” Luke said, surprised.

“What are you working on?” Jacen said.

“The organisational budget report for the Senate,” Luke said.

“Oh,” Jacen said, losing all interest. “I’ll go back to work.”

“I won’t stop you,” Luke said.

Jacen re-took his seat, slouching low and glaring at his datapad. After a few minutes, he sighed loudly. Luke congenially ignored it. He glanced over a careful judged span of time later, eyed Jacen’s furrowed expression, and went back to his own datapad.

Jacen’s initial silence lasted about as long as Luke had expected, filtering to a rustling restlessness and a string of increasingly heavy sighs before twenty minutes had passed. He amiably ignored those too, and Jacen managed to contain himself for about another minute. “What system of law do they use on Tatooine?”

“Not much of one,” Luke said. “And last time I checked, Tatooine wasn’t in the Core.”

Jacen’s chair creaked as he rocked back on it. He lasted a few more minutes, then said, “What do clouds wear under their clothes?” He ignored Luke’s warning look. “Thunderwear!”

“Jacen,” Luke said, “you do realise that your being in my office, with me, is supposed to be imposing? That is the point of this whole exercise.”

Jacen looked unconvinced. “Coruscant’s laws are stupid.”

“I’m sure your mom would be overjoyed to hear that from you, considering the amount of work she’s contributed to their development over the years.”

Even mid-sulk, Jacen had enough sense to look embarrassed. “It’s completely unfair that I’m even here.”

“I think that’s for me to judge.”

“You can make the punishment, but I can still judge it as unfair. Which it is.”

“To you, maybe.”

“Why isn’t Anakin here? He was just as involved.”

“If you consider allowing himself to be goaded by his older brother, then perhaps.”

“I didn’t goad.”

“Don’t even try, Jacen.”

“Well, I am the senior apprentice. And he acts like he knows everything about the Force, but he doesn’t. He’s just a dumb kid who thinks he’s special.”

Luke lifted an eyebrow and turned over another page of his disordered collection of flimsi-plast sheets. “I don’t think you actually believe that.”

“I do.”

“You know, there is no reason at all for you to feel threatened by Anakin. You’re both very powerful, but your strongest areas are different to Anakin’s. Just as your personalities are very different, and as your interests and skills are different.”

Jacen spluttered. “I do not feel threatened.”

“Maybe threatened isn’t the right word. The only reason Anakin is at the praxeum earlier than you were is because the junior class wasn’t prudent when you and Jaina were younger. That’s it.”

“Tell him that.”

“I’m telling you. You need to learn not to allow insecurities about your own abilities to govern how you respond to others. Your insight and empathy are fine qualities, and I value them a great deal. But you need to serve them fully, in a way that feels right to you, not distort them to suit other purposes.”

There was an interested glimmer in Jacen’s expression. “What about Anakin?”

“I’m not talking about Anakin.”

Jacen exhaled. “I can’t just stand there while he acts like he’s prince of the Jedi.”

“You can open your eyes a little wider and see that your brother’s younger than you are, is just beginning his formal training in the Force, and tends to take a completely different approach to you in most things, which doesn’t make his course automatically wrong. And if you still think you can offer him advice, do it in a way that doesn’t say he’s stupid. No one ever learns by being told that.”

Jacen’s expression flickered as he thought through this. A frown crept back onto his face, probably because he couldn’t find a point to argue with in there. He sat back with a defeated air, though there was still enough indignation in the mix that Luke knew most of what he’d said had bounced off that storm front of sulk. “You’re lucky you didn’t have to grow up with siblings,” Jacen grumbled.

“I don’t know about that,” Luke said, dragging a file on currency analysis over to the calculation corner of the screen of his ‘pad. “It wasn’t what I’d call fun.”

“Was it lonely?”

“Very.”

Jacen went distant briefly, reaching out somewhere—not very far, Luke suspected. “Sometimes I forget that you and Mom didn’t grow up together,” Jacen said. “I can’t imagine not having Jaina there. Wasn’t it like—” He paused, clearly grasping for words to express something so strange he couldn’t articulate it. “Not being whole?” he finished with, helplessly.

“It’s a little different for you and Jaina,” Luke said gently. “You guys have always been together. And your mom and I did still have a connection, of sorts. We just never knew what it was, or that it was there.”

“Yeah, I think I know what that would feel like. Kind of.”

“Try to remember, too, that Anakin has always been on the outside looking at that bond you and Jaina share,” Luke said. “And that he looks up to both of you a great deal, but you especially, because Jaina is in many ways more like him than you are. He’s often reaching out to impress you in ways you don’t see.”

Jacen’s expression registered doubt. “Yeah, maybe.”

Luke checked his chrono. It was creeping into evening. Outside, the jungle would be cooling as the sun set, hunkering under the shadows of the orange twilit sky. “It’ll be mealtime soon,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve done so far.”

Jacen crossed and handed Luke his datapad. As Luke had expected, the sections of writing weren’t badly done, certainly not unacceptable, but they were far below Jacen’s usual standard. He lifted his gaze as Jacen shifted slightly, restless. He stood with his weight reasonably well balanced, at least. “Go,” Luke said, “but I want this finished and handed in to me the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jacen said.

Luke handed the datapad back. Jacen took it with a careless murmur of thanks and hastily swung around, stuffing the ‘pad into his tunic.

“Jacen,” Luke said, holding up the flimsi of jokes.

Jacen gave him a grin, half-embarrassed, and stepped back to take the sheet, folding it away into the same pocket.

“Enjoy the meal,” Luke said, as Jacen swung out of the door.

He looked back at his report, in the new and wonderfully peaceful silence. He was wondering how best to phrase I had the praxeum shuttles refitted because they handled worse than a heatsick rancor, when he suddenly straightened and cursed.

Food.

He’d left food out of the expense calculations.

Luke eyed the columns of data that were now completely invalidated, pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, then put his datapad aside. He was, he decided, going to see what the meal was, and then maybe he’d call his wife.

In the morning he’d redo the calculations—including the food.

Stopping to pick up Jacen’s jacket, strewn over the back of a chair and forgotten, Luke headed for the mess hall.

[end]