Just Write What You Mean

There’s Got to be a Common-Sense Approach to the Language Rules

Please Correct Your Mistakes
(“Edited Version of First Book,” by Joanna Penn, licensed under Creative Commons 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0))

Presciptivists vs. Descriptivists – apparently these are two sides of a lingual battle that involves literary theorists, writers and all-around grammar nazis. The New Yorker magazine (that bastion of literary prestige!) kicked things off by describing an old conflict between those who want to prescribe rules for English that everyone else must follow (“prescriptivists”), and those who believe writers should be allowed to write however they please (“descriptivists”). The blogsphere exploded in response, arguing that the article was deeply confused about how these groups approach language rules, and that reality is not nearly so clear-cut as to divide language users into two distinguishable groups anyway. You’d be pretty radical to insist any utter gibberish should be accepted as grammatical, and I know many writers who’d cringe at being dictated to about how to use words. So yeah, maybe both groups are stereotypes. Grammar and language rules are things people love to fight over, strangely enough, but there’s got to be a common-sense approach to it.

To me, it’s pretty simple. I want people to understand me, and hopefully to feel something through what I write. If that means discarding every grammatical rule in the book, so be it. I’ve used sentence fragments, comma splices, run-on sentences, and far too many em dashes. I’ve made up words and mangled sentences. I’ve ended sentences with preposition, and started sentences with ‘because’ (and I’m still not sure why my elementary teachers insisted that was a no-no). All of it was in an effort to put my jumble of thoughts on paper in some kind of coherence. The thoughts in my head are far more incoherent than any grammatical mess, trust me, and sometimes there’s no way to force them into some rigid and imposed framework. But all this does not mean that I want to throw all grammar out the window – as if I’m on the far radical edge of the “descriptivist” position. Let me be clear, I write to communicate something.

Because, after all, if something is riddled with spelling mistakes it is far more distracting than whatever the main message of the writing is. If you expect a sentence to contain “you’re,” you are going to be thrown off it the writer puts “your.” If you start your masterpiece with a comma splice, some reader out there will never take the rest of your work seriously, because they just can’t get past the fact you didn’t know that simple rule of grammar (never mind the fact you did it deliberately). In other words, grammar should only be followed as much as the reader expects you to.

(If you’re interested, Steven Pinker explain this far better than I can over at Slate, but his article is also far longer.)

See, if you’re writing dialogue, and your character is an uneducated bum, you can use “ain’t” as much as you want. If you’re writing an academic paper, maybe not. (I love writing dialogue, by the way, because real-life dialogue is so dominated by sentence fragments, run-on sentences, and other grammatical blunders. You practically have to break rules to make your characters sound like real persons). It’s like the little rule about using “said” all the time in dialogue – many writers avoid using it, but it’s often better to use “said” than “pontificated,” “communicated,” or “opined,” since the little word “said” is expected by readers while the other words as so unexpected it’s jarring. And jarring shakes a reader out of a story.

So my goal as a writer is to maintain the illusion of the story as much as possible, and avoid jarring the reader out of the story at all costs. Therefore some grammatical rules must be followed. Sentences should end in periods, unless you’re pretending to write from some distant future where punctuation is entirely different (and that sort of story would be entirely difficult to pull off without seeming gimmicky). Quotation marks should go around dialogue. But things like semicolons – well, it may be entirely grammatically correct to place them in a sentence, and the sentence might really need some kind of connection device included in it, but semicolons are so formal-looking you’ve got to be very, very careful with them. It’s okay if your whole story is pretty formally written already. But if your story is from the first person point-of-view of a very slangy character, a semicolon’s going to look weird, no matter how grammatically correct it is. (And this is another reason I love the over-used em dash).

In the end, I think grammar should be very personal. Oh look, I’ve horrified English teachers everywhere! But it’s your decision as a writer to decide which grammatical rules are going to enhance your story, and which ones you should break. This implies, of course, that you know a bit about grammar (and hey, I’m one of many writers who can always learn a thing or two more about it). English is an evolving language, so take advantage of that. If you’re lucky, you might be like Shakespeare, and get the invent half the vocabulary people will use in the future.

 

Are you in favour of dictating grammar rules, or allowing writers their freedom – and how much freedom? Is there a common-sense approach to the funny quirks of the English language?

Skipping Dinner: Chapter 30C (Why Polly?)

It was terrible of me to keep you in suspense like this, but I knew this chapter needed a second edit, and I didn’t have time until today. I couldn’t end Why Polly? on a sub-par chapter! That said, I am truly glad so many of you got this far with me, and that so many commented, subscribed to updates, liked this on Facebook, or whatever else. Sharing is almost as much fun as writing! In the future, I plan to potentially release the story again in e-book format, or possibly as a paperbook, but it needs some intense editing first (so that’s very far in the future). I will keep you updated!

(No summary today, ‘cuz it would kind of spoil things to tell the whole story if you haven’t read it, but Chapter 1 is here.)

Chapter 30C: Skipping Dinner        

 I should really go dress for dinner.

I still sat in the dimness of the library, trying to shut out the words of the gypsy and not succeeding. This was why I was so wickedly jealous of Paulina. This was why I had not wanted to see what was in Casper’s face, when she had gone over to stand with Stefan. I was too afraid I’d see disappointment written there.

This was ridiculous. I was not the type of girl to sit and mope – not for long, anyway.

I stood up and strode down the hall. It was time for dinner, and as for any ridiculous suggestions about having a chat with someone – well, that someone could find me, if he wanted to chat.

Actually, I didn’t know how to face him, now that I knew what I knew.

Once I found my room again, after several bewildering twists and turns, I began to freshen up for dinner. I did not feel like eating at all. But what else was there to do? Half-heartedly I pulled out a pretty white frock and put it on.

It was Paulina’s dress, since I had nothing I’d worn in Chaldea here with me. I left off several of the layers of the Angarian underwear, but it still looked unalterably Angarian. I frowned at myself in the mirror. I did not think I could ever be a beauty like Paulina, even if my nose was not as long as it was. But the white dress looked very pretty against my skin tanned from the Chaldean sun. What a surprise, my skin had finally gotten darker! I took a handful of cornflowers from the jug on my dresser and held them up to my eyes. Yes, exactly the same colour.

Cornflowers… blast it, even those had memories. Casper had bought some for me the day I was sick at the Peak. And I’d been flattered for half a moment, until Paulina had said he’d probably felt sorry for the shopkeeper. I dropped the cornflowers back on the dresser.

For a moment I hesitated, then I slipped the earrings out of the pocket of the dress I had taken off. One clear, one red, and both so familiar. They didn’t match, but I slid both into my ears anyway. It gave me an odd feeling, because I could feel power channelling from one side of my head to the other. I wondered what I’d ever do with them, and if Casper really had meant me to wear them.

A maid entered the room behind me, and I whirled around.

“It’s okay if I don’t go down to dinner tonight, isn’t it?” I asked. I really didn’t feel hungry. Or much like talking.

“It is as you wish, my lady,” the maid replied.

I sighed. “Then tell them I won’t be down.”

Then I wandered to the outside. A small doorway from my room led out to a narrow stone walkway that connected to several levels of terraces. I meandered my way down. The sun had just begun to set, spreading its golden rays over the land. It was not at all like the warm, sultry Chaldean sunsets, but it was in a way comfortingly familiar. The sun in Chaldea shines straight down, until suddenly it’s filling the sky with red and disappearing. In Angaria, long rays of sunlight float across the landscape for what seems like forever, spraying lights and shadows over everything.

I rounded a corner, and found myself on the patio. I stumbled back a step, for I certainly hadn’t meant to end up here. And I certainly had meant for the tall figure lounging against the stone railing to turn just in time to see me.

“Not a royal duty to attend dinner, huh?” said Casper.

Heat flooded my face, but I ignored it. The wind was ruffling his reddish curls – thankfully he had abandoned wearing pompadours now that we were in Angaria.

“I see the Royal Enchanter isn’t in attendance either,” I replied, before remembering he wasn’t one anymore. Blast it, I was never going to get used to that.

The most amazing grin spread across his face. I’d seen him smile before, but not like this – not like happiness could come pouring out of every corner of his face.

“That’s the beauty of it, Lady Penelope,” he told me. “I don’t have to do what I don’t want to do. I’m free now – free!”

Goodness, he must’ve really hated the Peak.

I laughed. “You can still offend kings.”

He laughed in return. “Yes, but now at least I can run away.”

And suddenly I felt comfortable enough to cross right across that patio and lean against the stone railing with him. Because he was still the same old Casper. And if the two of us could still tease each other, not too much else could go wrong.

“And now you’re going to…?” He looked at me. “Become Queen? Terrorize another court, except as a ruler?”

“And make the men line up to marry me?” I laughed and shook my head. “No, Paulina’s still going to be Queen. I arranged it all with – Father.”

“What do you want to do, Polly?”

I sighed and leaned my chin in my hands against the stone railing. “Travel the world, maybe…” To be truthful, the thought of actually doing that now that I was free to, scared me a little. Especially going alone. “Maybe find some poor, run-down kingdom that needs a spot of magic, and make sure they don’t trap me.”

“How’re you going to do that, Polly?

I glared at him. He might as well rub it in my face that he knew far more about magic than I did. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You’ll need a teacher.”

“Maybe I’ll find one.”

“Good teachers are hard to find.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to look hard, then.”

He spread his arms wide, tipping his head back, and then reached to turn my head so I couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “Polly, Polly, Polly, maybe one is standing right in front of you.”

“You?” I whispered. “You… don’t have magic… you just got free.”

“I wanted to be free of Chaldea, not the magic.” He dropped his arms but rested one on the railing, far, far too close to me. “And you’ve managed to give me magic before, Polly.”

I looked away. Oh, how I’d rather learn from Casper than anyone else. But not if he just wanted to teach me in exchange for magic. Not if I was just another comfortable companion to him, and his heart was entangled somewhere else.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” I said, and watched his shoulders sag. “I couldn’t tie you down, even if it’s just by magic. It just – wouldn’t work.”

Casper was still far too close. “I’m sure you have plenty of reasons. List them.”

 “You’d teach me for nothing.”

“And you’d lend me magic.” He shrugged. “I think it’s a fair trade.”

“You’d be linked to me, just like the Peak.”

“I’d have to stick somewhere near you if I wanted to use any magic, but it’s not like that flagstone.”

“And what if you want to go off somewhere?”

“You could come with me.”

“A scandal!”

“You could marry me first.”

My breath caught in my throat. My heart suddenly began hammering somewhere below that. “You’re not serious.”

His dark eyes caught mine. “If the Rajah can propose to you, so can I – if you haven’t accepted him already.”

“You should blasted know me well enough to know I wouldn’t accept the Rajah.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away, so I forced out, “But what about Paulina?”

He leaned closer. “What about her? I haven’t asked her – oh brilliant, you think I have!” His eyes began to sparkle. “Polly, I don’t know you well enough to know you’d reject the Rajah – I can never predict what you’ll do. But you should know me enough to know it wasn’t Paulina I was thinking about when faced with that jadess!”

“Faced with the jadess – oh!”

The realization sunk in. Across the garden, the sun was rapidly sinking too, sending crazy shadows over Casper’s face, with the last beams dancing almost as wildly as my thoughts. And somehow, through it all, Casper’s face seemed to swim nearer and nearer to mine.

“You win,” I said hastily. “You can teach me. You can – and everything else you say – oh, even –“ And I couldn’t say it to his face, not even staring at the buttons on his vest, so I finally whispered, “I wouldn’t want anyone else to.”

“Not even the Rajah?”

“Not even him.”

“I was a bit worried, you know.”

“And I was so worried about –“

And then I felt his arms around me, and he was laughing softly into my hair. My shoulders shook against his chest, and I realized I was laughing too. So stupid. So utterly stupid, but then, everyone was a bit stupid in love.

Somehow my hands found the red teardrop earring, and unhooked it from my ear.

“Then this is yours,” I said. “But it means you’re stuck with me.”

“No, you’re stuck with me, Polly Summers.” And he took it.

“It’s a good thing I’m crazy about you, then.”

Then that wonderful, wide, happy grin was back on his face. A moment more, and his nose was near enough to rub mine. I tilted my head up. Then he kissed me, me, Polly Summers, long-nosed and light-footed. And I was never happier in my life.

‘Why Polly?’ delay

The last chapter of Why Polly? will go up on Wednesday. My sincere apologies for the delay.

Is the World Ruled by Extroverts?

The Thinker

Extroverts are stimulated by being around other people, while introverts are re-energized by being alone, or so the common definitions go. And that seems pretty accurate – I fit right into the definition of introvert. Then I ran across this article, which argues that our modern world actively filters out the introverts, and even worse, that no one wants to be labelled an introvert anyway. As the author himself describes it, “Given that introversion is frowned upon almost everywhere in U.S. culture, the test [for introversion] might as well have asked, ‘Would you prefer to be cool, popular, and successful or weird, isolated, and a failure?’” This tendency towards selecting for extroversion and against introversion, he argues, leaves aside the potential warning voices of introverts, and results in a culture of “shallow thinking, compulsory optimism, and escalating risk-taking in pursuit of success.” He also argues, for introverts attempting to appear more extroverted, it can cost them their health and personal lives.

I can sort of relate to that idea. When I was in my first year of nursing school (yes, waaaaaaay back then), I was told by my instructor that I would not do well in clinical if I did not speak up more. And, memorably, another instructor the next year spent half an hour of discussion with me about how to conquer my natural introversion. Now, it turned out that I did keep passing my courses despite my introversion failures, and furthermore it turned out that despite passing my courses, nursing was not the career for me. So in the end, it was a moot point. But I thought it’s strange how everyone indicates to me that introversion is something to be conquered in the career hunt, and never something to be embraced.

See, my natural way of operating, when thrust into a bewildering and uncertain situation (or anything new, really), is to retreat into myself and watch everyone else very closely. If I try to say or do something too quickly, I end up tripping all over my feet or my tongue. That’s because my brain is actually pretty slow at processing things, and a lot of new information at once overloads it. All I can do is sit back and wait for the normal rhythm of this strange situation to start to become normal to me, and then my brain can ignore that and focus on how I should act in such a situation. Until then, I just can’t jump in. Presumably an extrovert could handle all that external information firing at them at once, but I can’t.

I don’t deny sometimes you do have to conquer your introversion. The world is not made for anti-social basement dwellers who don’t know how to speak to another living soul. New jobs kind of require you to take in a lot of random information at once. Also, if I never went to crowded social situations like parties, I’d never have any fun (though I’ve had enough boring or awkward situations in that area too). Sometimes, you just have to push your shyness and lack of confidence to the back of your mind, and pretend you actually are an extrovert. And you know what? That actually does work. The problem I’ve run up against is that it saps superhuman amounts of energy. Now, practice definitely makes perfect. If I am used to being around people and talking to lots of different people often, my tolerance of external stimuli goes up (and then I get people telling me they’re surprised to find out I’m an introvert). The amount of energy needed to network goes down. But if, for any reason, I’m left to my own quiet routine, or if I lock myself in my room to study for exams or something, my tolerance goes way down again. So it’s basically a back-and-forth struggle.

This, however, begs the question – how much of a struggle should it be? Should introverts really be required to make a superhuman effort all the time, or try to ‘pass’ as an extrovert? It’s good for me to be somewhat tolerant of external stimuli, but do I really need to overcome introversion completely?

And here’s where some argue the world is made for extroverts. Everyone forms opinions of everyone else in split second decisions, and outgoing people have an edge in that department. If it’s a job interview, someone with easy social skills present well. If you’re trying to get the attention of some good-looking guy… well, you get the picture. Then there’s our modern world, which constantly bombards us with information and expects us to keep up with it all (and cope with continual interruptions too). In addition, some of the better sides of introversion is ignored or overlooked. You know, the deep, inward reflection that sometimes results in bursts of creativity. And thinking (maybe too much sometimes) before you speak. Introversion often gets linked to imaginative pursuits too, such as being an artist, writer or inventor. Yet if someone catches you staring off into space, thinking… they usually wave a hand in your face and tease you.

When it comes down to it, introverts just are introverts, and no amount of coaching by instructors or faking extroversion will change that. And I don’t think it’s right, if certain sectors of this world do tend to select for extroverts, for introverts to be continually urged to become something they’re not. There’s got to be parts of introversion the world can embrace and use. Let’s not train our kids to grow up to fit identical outgoing-personality-type boxes.

The article I mentioned at the beginning (‘Screening Out the Introverts,’ by William Pannapacker) mentions a whole slew of books about introversion, shyness, and how to best adapt to the world in that case. Maybe I should do some further reading

Anyway, would you agree the world tilts towards the extroversion side of the scale, or do you think introverts are properly appreciated?

A Chat in the Library: Chapter 30B (Why Polly?)

The Story So Far: Polly, a princess, an Enchanter, and his apprentice discover they are all are being threatened by a malevolent magical being known as a jadess. Can Polly get along with the arrogant enchanter long enough to figure out how to survive with a jadess after them? The jadess captures two of her friends, and she must make a desperate confrontation, and it leads Polly to realize exactly what she thinks of the enchanter… Chapter 1 is here.

Chapter 30B: A Chat in the Library

My head swam as I rested it against the wall, leaning against the side of some dark, wood-panelled passageway deep in the bowels of the castle. I did not know how far away I was from the room the jadess/princess had locked me into the first time I had come here. I was probably very far away. And not only in distance – so much was unimaginably different now.

“Father is such a dear,” Paulina had said, as we’d been walking away from the throne room. “I was afraid everything would be changed once he learned I wasn’t his real daughter, but it hasn’t. Oh Polly, did you really mean it when you said you thought I’d be a wonderful queen?”

“I did,” I had told her. “You really would, Paulina.”

She’d laughed merrily. “I feel like everything’s perfect now.”

I could never have been Queen. My time in the Chaldean court had taught me that. Angaria would be at war with five neighbouring countries at once, through my political blunders, before I’d even started figuring out what I was supposed to do.

For so long, I had been convinced I was average – another mousy blond Angarian who sold flowers in the marketplace. Maybe I had never quite believed Casper when he’d told me my long nose meant I possessed magic. I certainly had never tried to use it until I had no other choice. And now… now I could never go back. I had to face the fact I both had magic and royal blood, both things I had never dreamed of asking for in my life.

I straightened up and crept farther down the quiet passageway. At least no one was about here. I had no idea what to say to anyone right now.

“What does the king say about Stefan?” I had asked Paulina, before we’d parted ways – she to dress for dinner, and I to find a quiet spot to think.

“He says he may court me as much as he wants,” she’d replied, eyes shining. “And marry me too, if that’s what he intends. Maybe we will – someday.”

So Stefan was Paulina’s choice. That was a good thing, they did suit each other. For a moment, though, I wished I had seen Casper’s face when Paulina and Stefan had stood together after the battle.

And Casper – I had not seen him since his explanation to the king of how five of us had suddenly appeared in the king’s private summer garden in the middle of the night. I did not know that I wanted to. The last thing he had done was hand his earring back to me before he had disappeared to wherever my father, the King, had quartered him for the night.

I still had the earring in my pocket. Why should I carry around something I had always so closely connected with Casper? Yet to just drop it on my bureau in my room seemed so final. As if I would finally have to face the fact I had no reason to see Casper ever again now.

And Casper had no reason to stay in one place. Not in Chaldea, and not anywhere. Didn’t he have gypsy blood?

The archway to my right appeared to open into some sort of library. I slipped around the corner and stood among the shelves of books. It would be dinner soon, and I should really go dress for it myself. But I was not hungry yet. And here was a quiet place to gather my thoughts.

“Polly Summers, isn’t it?” came a voice.

I whirled around to see the gypsy lounging in a chair behind me.

“Scared me!” I managed, just keeping myself from shrieking it. I would’ve reamed him out for nearly making me jump out of my skin, but I realized now was the perfect time to ask him how he’d got here. And how he’d appeared just in time to help us last night, stopping the jadess in time for Casper to strip her of her powers.

“Apologies,” he replied, with that distinctive twinkle of mischief dancing around his eyes. Far too much like Casper’s eyes. “You’re wondering about me.”

“I’m curious,” I admitted.

“And I am indebted to you,” he said. I stared, and he inclined his head to me. “If it were not for your mention of a diamond coat that night we met in Chaldea, I would never have investigated your enchanter-friend. He and his former coat are rather distinctive, are they not? I knew of only one coat like that existing, so your friend had to either be a thief, or my nephew.”

“Nephew?” I said.

“By all available evidence, it seems I am Casper’s uncle.”

I shook my head. As if there had not been enough surprises.

“I first heard of the existence of such a coat as his many years ago. My brother had just sent me news he had purchased such a coat – he had spent nearly half his lifetime attempting to trade for such a valuable object, not so much for its power, which he had little use for, but because he knew the worth of such an object would secure his position as a trader of rare and valuable artifacts – just before I received news he and his whole family had perished from the plague. Nothing that anyone could’ve done – half the nearby city had been wiped out too. But that didn’t sit right with me… couldn’t believe they were all gone so easily as that. And went I judged it safe enough to go to their camp and investigate, I could find no sign of the coat my brother had written me about.”

He smiled. “So you can imagine your statement piqued my interest.”

“The coat stayed with him the whole time?” I said. “Even after being adopted?”

“I had my suspicions too,” the gypsy admitted. “Which is why I thoroughly investigated. But it appears the Angarian couple who adopted him truly were that naïve about objects of magic.”

As were pretty everybody in Angaria, though I didn’t say that to him.

He shrugged. “Once I had satisfied myself, I went to speak to Casper. Then I saw the jadess kidnap them, and I thought something had to be amiss, so I followed on my magic carpet – like my brother, I deal in hard-to-find objects as well. The jadess seemed to have a little trouble getting control over her magic, unable to transport anywhere instantly, and so I was able to follow. But once I arrived I saw the situation was way out of my hands, so I stayed hidden until the end.”

I grinned. “You came in just in time.”

“Yes, that was fortunate.”

“I believe we should thank you.”

He waved a hand. “I don’t need thanks. But it’s nice of you anyway.”

“Did you tell Casper about this?” I asked.

“He knows,” the gypsy replied. “We talked last night.”

“Casper told me he was raised by a rich Angarian family,” I said. “They washed their hands of him when he took to travelling.”

“Yes,” said the gypsy. “A gypsy child doesn’t often do well in such circumstances.”

“Poor Casper,” I sighed.

“Poor Casper?” he laughed. “I think he is happier this way. And the Angarian family probably is too.”

I sighed and wondered what would happen to all of us now. We had spent so many months so happily in the Peak, and now it seemed like everything was conspiring to spread us apart. And I – I had turned down being queen, but what did that mean for me now? Would I stay in Angaria?

“You are very quiet, Polly Summers.”

I frowned. “You know my name, but I don’t recall yours.”

“Favian,” he offered. “Call me Favian. And I can guess at your silence.”

“That would be very perceptive of you, considering you’ve just met me.”

“I don’t need decades to figure out when a girl is in love, though my nephew seems to.”

I sucked in a breath. “What did you say?”

His eyes twinkled. “You heard me, and don’t waste breath denying it. Perhaps you and Casper should have a little chat.”

My mouth worked open and closed, but when I could finally speak, all I could say was, “I don’t know where he is.”

“When I saw him last, he was standing on the terrace.” The gypsy stood up. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“But I’m not –“ I couldn’t deny it. “I don’t plan to –“

What didn’t I plan to do? The gypsy was grinning like he wouldn’t believe a word I’d say.

Then he softly exited the room, leaving the door to thump shut behind him. And I sat there in the dimness, my heart pounding, wondering why he could see right through me.

Why Some Girls Like Mr. Darcy

Mr Darcy {{PD-US}}

Maybe this post should actually be called ‘why I like Mr. Darcy,’ but I flatter myself these reasons might be shared by other females.

Mr. Darcy gets a lot of flak from guys. He’s just some woman’s imagination of the perfect guy, no real guy acts like that, women in general should just grow up and settle for reality (etc., etc.) And, well, some reasons for liking him are a little flimsy. He’s good-looking? Well, he’s a literary character, so you get to imagine him as good-looking as you like (and while the novel does describe him as handsome, the bad boy of the book, Wickham, is called more handsome). You could point out he’s rich, or that he’s well-mannered, but run the risk of being called mercenary, or looking like you want every guy to throw his coat over a puddle for you. No, there’s several very good reasons for enjoying Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, and I shall list them below.

He’s Bad at Talking to People

When I first read Pride and Prejudice, I really had no idea what it was about or what exactly was going to happen, but this part is what first gave me some fellow feeling for Mr. Darcy in the novel. Elizabeth is teasing him for being so quiet at the dance she first met him at (she accuses him of pride, which was partly the reason.) And he replies, “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

Oh, Mr. Darcy, you too? A man described as handsome and rich, who still fumbles around in conversations with strangers? Well, then, I feel a bit better at possessing this flaw myself. If you can’t think of anything to talk about, why should someone so much less interesting as myself, ever be good at it? You don’t know how many times I’ve stood across from someone for many long, awkward minutes, with my mind going a mile a minute and still not having a word to say. While everyone around me can strike up a conversation without any effort at all.

I’m afraid I come off rude sometimes too, without meaning to be. Hopefully I don’t come off as proud. That’s what everyone Elizabeth knows first thinks of Darcy.

Yes, Jane Austen gave me something to relate to in her hero, and this is one big reason I can get on board with the whole Pride and Prejudice fan bandwagon.

He Actually Makes a Move

Mr. Darcy does not wait around ninety percent of the book, too scared to find out what the heroine thinks of him (which too many romance novels do). Jane Austen is not fumbling around for some device to drag out her plot, and does not decide to make him get this close to saying something to Elizabeth, before being frustratingly interrupted. No, he actually gets up and walks over to where Elizabeth is staying, and asks her to marry him. (Okay, it’s be a bit strange if a guy who liked you just straight-up proposed to you nowadays, but at least Elizabeth isn’t in the dark about how he feels). And – take note of this, guys – he does get brutally shot down. But at least he took the risk. And the plot moves on!

When females try to explain to males what Mr. Darcy’s attraction is, they don’t often explain this, but I think it plays a role. None of this ‘secret admirer for years’ stuff. He’ll actually tell you to your face how he’s feeling.

 

He’s Flawed

This might be a point for the writer in me, but I love how Mr. Darcy is not a perfect paragon of virtue, and it is his very flaws that separate him from Elizabeth for most of the novel. They always tell writers that heroes that are too perfect are boring to read about. Yet, for some reason, romance novels still keep pulling out endlessly romantic and caring dudes with rippling abs. Even when the heroine gives the guy ample reason to throw in the towel! But no, this guy is sincere and loves the girl for who she is… blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, this point directly contradicts the charge that Mr. Darcy is “too unrealistic.” I’ll admit finding a good-looking, virtuous guy who also happens to be rich is stretching things a little far, but the fact he has flaws makes him more believable. He can’t quite take a joke, not even by the end of the novel. And he is proud. He tones it down a bit by the end, but he has pride in spades. This gets toned down a bit in the movie adaptions, I think (at least in the Keira Knightley one), but for a long time he was not ashamed at all for breaking up Jane and Bingley because he really thought Jane was beneath Bingley. He actually, while proposing to Elizabeth, spends a long chunk of time describing how he’s lowering himself to do so (you wonder why she shot him down, huh?) In his letter to her, he still insists he did right by Bingley. And by the end, he still can’t quite take all of Elizabeth’s teasing, as I mentioned before.

At least he’s consistent. “Love” doesn’t turn him into the opposite of everything he’d been throughout the book before – unfortunately, I’ve seen this happen in too many novels before too.

 

Anyway, there’s my two cents on that. Are there any more reasons you can add?

The King: Chapter 30A (Why Polly?)

I don’t like this chapter as written, but I’m still feeling pretty sick so I don’t have the energy to viciously edit it. It’s only because I don’t want to disappoint any of you that it’s up!

The Story So Far: Polly, a princess, an Enchanter, and his apprentice discover they are all are being threatened by a malevolent magical being known as a jadess. Can Polly get along with the arrogant enchanter long enough to figure out how to survive with a jadess after them? Then the jadess captures two of her friends, and she must make a desperate confrontation. Chapter 1 is here.

Chapter 30A: The King

 The king looked benevolently down on us from where he was seated on his carven chair. He was most certainly a king, powerful, with strong features and noble bearing. It was the day after Casper had transported us to the palace, and the king had called Paulina and me before him.

“So you are Polly,” he said. “I might have assumed as much. You look so much like Queen Leira.”

I looked up at King Frederick. My father. “What was my mother like, sire?”

“Sweet as anything,” he replied. He stood up and came down towards us. Standing he was taller than me by about a head. “She was so delicate – so beautiful. Yet I owed so much to her, for it was because of her that I realised there was a jadess in my court.”

He looked down at both of us. “I often wondered if Leira had done something to protect her baby the night it was born. She knew the jadess was bent on revenge, as much as I knew it. Paulina,” he looked at her with his kind, kingly smile, but she couldn’t look at him, “I used to wonder why you resembled Leira so little. There was a doubt in my mind. I even felt hurt at times that Leira hadn’t confided in me what she had done, but she had died so soon after you were born. I did try, at first, to find out what happened, but then I decided I would put all doubt out of my mind and love you as my own, whether you were or not.” She slowly lifted her eyes to him at this. “This all has come as a shock. But Paulina, I want you to know I will always consider you a daughter, and that I love you.”

“Father!” she said, and her eyes shone. I had not realised how worried she had been about how her father would receive her now. She went up and hugged him tightly around the waist.

The king smiled at her and squeezed her hand, and did not look less kingly for doing so. Then he sat down again.

“Here is what I presume happened,” he said. “Leira was afraid of the jadess’s revenge, and she wanted to protect her baby. So she found a baby from an orphanage and said it was her own, and gave her handmaiden, Gretchen, the responsibility of raising her real child. She must have intended to tell me and we would watch over Gretchen’s rearing of it together, from a distance so the jadess would not suspect, until it was old enough to be told who it was and what had happened. Death, of course, intervened. Leira – died a day after childbirth.” He averted his eyes.

I felt a strange bond with my mother suddenly. As a child I had never wondered about my parents, for I was not the only child without them, but now I wanted to know more. And my heart rejoiced that I had finally met my father. I turned my eyes up to him.

“Polly,” he said to me, “I will not deny it was a shook to find you. I do not know what to do with a daughter I barely know. But I would like to know you better.”

“I would too,” I replied softly, then hesitated and added, “ – Father.”

My gaze met his kingly one, and we smiled almost self-consciously.

Last night we had all turned up in Angaria, Casper, Stefan, Paulina, me and the gypsy. We had gone to the royal palace, since it was Paulina’s home and she was sure of our welcome there. The king had been over-joyed to see her, though she had been almost uncomfortable with him. It must be a shock to find you father is not your father.

Casper explained what had happened, since Paulina had not been inclined to. Somehow, the king had given us all room to stay in the palace anyway, despite the news. I had slept soundly under goose-down quilts, and in the morning I had visited Gretchen to assure myself she was okay. Now, in the afternoon, Paulina and I had been called before the king.

The king paced to the bookshelves now. “There is only one problem,” he said. We looked at him.

“Two years ago,” he said, “My council pressed me to name my successor. Officially, my successor is now Paulina. It would be nearly impossible to change the edict.”

I looked at him. “I don’t have to be queen?”

“I could, perhaps, force an emendation on it,” the king mused, “But I don’t know how that would be done. Yet it would not be right to deny my blood-daughter the throne.”

“But what if I refuse it, in favour of my sister Paulina?” I asked. Both the king and Paulina looked at me.

“I – I am not cut out for being Queen,” I told them. “I had never been trained for it. Paulina has grown up with the expectation all her life. She has lived at court. She could make a wonderful Queen.” I hesitated. “You could legally adopt her, and she would then be your heir, since she is older than me.”

“Would you relinquish all claim to the throne?” the king asked.

“I would,” I replied steadily.

He studied my face for a moment, then sighed. “If we do this, you must be firmly resolved. But – perhaps it is the best way. You would have to sign documents that show you’ve given up claim to the throne, you know.”

“Then I will sign them,” I replied. “But I cannot be Queen. I am only a simple flower-girl, though I am the daughter of the king. You know Paulina ever so much more than me. I would not take queen-ship from her, even if I wanted it. Make her queen. “

Paulina looked at me with wonderment. “Polly, do you mean it?”

“Yes,” I answered.

She sighed softly. “I used to hate the thought of someday becoming Queen. But slowly I was reconciled to it, and I laid plans for how I would better the country if I became its ruler. I – I would accept queen-ship if you gave it to me.”

“Well, it’s settled then,” the king broke in. “I will not change the edict. This makes it legal. I was afraid – Polly would not agree.” I smiled at him.

“No, I think this way is best.”

Go to A Chat in the Library: Chapter 30B

Another E-book Prediction Link

So I’ve spent the last three days trying to fight off a nasty virus of some kind, and though my head is swimming with all kinds of great ideas for blog posts (thanks to the stress of exams finally being over), I have almost no energy to write them. Therefore, I will follow up on my previous post, ‘Will E-books Kill the Printed Book?‘ by sharing this link on how book design will change as a result of e-books. It comes to similar conclusions my post did – that paper books probably will continue to exist, even if just for a high-end market of paper book snobs. It’s far more pessimistic than I am though. While I can see such a future might happen, I am by no means convinced it will. But either way – enjoy.

‘What Will Become of the Paper Book?’ Slate.com

Rant About Jane Austen’s ‘Mansfield Park’

(public domain)

So, I don’t usually do book reviews on this blog, but Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park is so frustrating, I just have to vent about it somewhere. If you haven’t read it or what to avoid spoilers, don’t worry, you can skip this post.

Mansfield Park is a book that has had love and hate poured out on it over the years (probably more hate than love). I didn’t know this when I first read it, I just picked it up because it said ‘Jane Austen’ on the front. And anything by Jane Austen is highly superior, if only because of her adept writing style. But Mansfield Park is, well, frustrating – the first time I read it I thought it was because I didn’t like how it ends (the climax – spoiler! – is exactly the same as in Pride and Prejudice, but with slightly different results), but now I think it’s just frustrating the whole way through.

Pride and Prejudice – Corrupted?

To me, Mansfield Park is like a corrupted version of Pride and Prejudice. In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy change for the better because they met each other, but in Mansfield Park it’s like Jane Austen decided to warn all those impressionable young girls out there that people rarely do change. Nobody fundamentally changes in this novel. The main character, Fanny Price, remains steadfastly quiet and shy the whole time, and she is vindicated in the end when her unfavourable opinion of Mr. Crawford turns out to be right (instead of, say, a prejudice like Elizabeth’s opinion was). It’s like Jane Austen’s saying – girls, don’t believe what I said before about men changing because of love for you. They don’t change. And if you think a man is a cad, you’re probably right. Don’t let him convince you otherwise. Which might be perfectly true in reality, and probably is a good lesson for all romance readers out there. But in a novel, where character arcs are important, it requires that what appears to be a character arc for Henry Crawford (and Mary Crawford too), to be chopped off and revealed to be a non-arc. It also requires for there to be no character arc for Fanny, and none for Edmund either.

Also, in Pride and Prejudice, the two central couples are matched up happily. In Mansfield Park, only one couple is, leaving the two leftover spares to misery. In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy steps up when Lydia runs away with Wickham, and saves the Bennet family from shame. In Mansfield Park, no one saves the Bertram family from shame, though the result is that Edmund is free to marry Fanny.

So, corrupted version of Pride and Prejudice? It seems so to me – even Mary Crawford is like an exaggerated version of what Lizzy would be like if she were a little bit too free with her tongue. (And had more corrupted morals).

And What a Self-Assertive Main Character!

Most of the hate for this book centres around Fanny, and I have to admit, she is a problematic main character. Any time you make a shy, passive person the main character of the novel, you risk making the reader annoyed because they don’t do anything. But while I realize it limits the novel, I don’t absolutely hate Fanny, because I share enough similarities with her. I am a shy introvert myself, who really should take initiative more often, but just don’t have the guts. I will sit back in a room full of noisy people and watch them, and notice all the little ways they are hurting and irritating each other, when they themselves don’t even realize it. I guess I have strong moral principles too, and while I don’t understand her objections to acting in a play, I do understand her objections to accepting the attention of a man she knows plays with women’s hearts. In fact, I really would like to love Fanny. I like it when introverts get their due. Which just leads to frustration when her passivity gets in the way of advancing the plot.

The Honourable Romantic Hero

And another reason the book frustrates me is Edmund. I know he is honourable, upright, and all the rest of it, but he is also bland and boring. More than any of Jane Austen’s other heroes, his good qualities appear to be more informed attributes. She never really makes it clear why Fanny is so in love with him, other than the fact they grew up together and he is the only one who notices her once in a while. Anyway, it is difficult to cheer for a romantic hero who spends ninety-nine percent of the book chasing after another woman who is all wrong for him. And perpetually forgetting Fanny because of it, though Fanny is apparently too used to being taken for granted to care. But the reader notices!

Sorry, No Hope Here

But my biggest frustration is that I have: that there is no hope for Henry Crawford and Mary. This is the way the book has to end, and after re-reading it several times, I see redeeming them would completely ruin the main point of the story. But it is so sad for them! They are likeable people, Jane Austen makes sure of that. They are not like Mrs. Elton in Emma, whom you would love to see being taken down a notch or two. But Henry Crawford abuses women’s affections abominably, and to let Fanny fall in love with him would make it seem like that fault doesn’t really matter. Also, she would probably never make him happy because she doesn’t possess the nerve to stand up to him. If he trotted off to flirt with other women after they got married, she would hardly have the ability to protest that it makes her miserable. So I can’t see the book ending in any other way, but I wish for the Crawfords’ sake that they could somehow learn from their mistakes. That they wouldn’t just let their blindness, bad morals and folly ruin their lives. This leave me with a frustrating, unfinished feeling when I reach the end of the book – and if there has to be more to the story that will tie up these loose ends. As if a sequel is begging to be written.

So there you have it – all my thoughts on this book out on paper. A quick search of Jane Austen sites on the net will show there are many, many more people frustrated with this book, for a variety of reasons. But I will say, I don’t regret reading it, or re-reading it again and again, because it is of Jane-Austen-quality. Her worst book (and I don’t know if this is her worst) is better than many authors’ best. I also really, really want to like Mansfield Park. And large chunks of it are very enjoyable. That, of course, just makes it more frustrating.

 

What about you? Have you read Mansfield Park, and what did you think of it?

Confrontation Continued: Chapter 29B (Why Polly?)

Thank you to all who’ve been reading this, especially all those who’ve stuck with me all the way to Chapter 29! We’re getting quite close to the end now, so let me say I am amazed by your dedication and comments of appreciation. I’m glad to hear anyone likes to read this story!

The Story So Far: Polly, a princess, an Enchanter, and his apprentice discover they are all are being threatened by a malevolent magical being known as a jadess. Can Polly get along with the arrogant enchanter long enough to figure out how to survive with a jadess after them? Then the jadess captures two of her friends, and she must make a desperate confrontation. Chapter 1 is here.

Chapter 29B: Confrontation Continued

I’d just stepped towards Casper, when he cried, “Watch out!”

I threw myself back to the floor. Two jets over light sizzled over my head, from opposite ends of the room. The jadess and her hedge-wizard, both aiming for me.

There were four of us and only two of them, but I was the only one of us that had magic, and I had no blasted idea how to use it.

I ducked a flurry of spell from the jadess and skittered towards the wall. At least I could have my back to something. Then I thought about hardness, as hard as I could, and let my power ebb out around me.

Another flurry of spells were aimed at me. Both the jadess and her hedge wizard had left the sides of the room, and were taking slow steps towards me. I watched their jets of light slash through the air towards me and hoped…

The shield of hardened magic around me held. What did you know, I could figure out how to protect myself. Now, to get both myself and the others out of here was another problem.

I sent out a tentative ball of light towards the jadess. She laughed and batted it aside.

“Is that all you have to show me?” Her red lips curved upwards in a triumphant smile. “Possessing magic from the time of your birth, and that is all you have to show for it?”

I would’ve replied, but sweat was pouring down my face from my attempt to hold up my shield of magic.

They were, quite simply, going to pin me down against that wall until I was worn out.

“You haven’t seen half of it yet,” I managed, and threw, with all the pent up fury I possessed, the strongest bolts of power at them that I could imagine. In the same instant, I dodged to the corner, because I had to let up my shield to down it. The jadess’s face changed from triumph to sudden anxiety.

Then the hedge wizard swept my wave of magic aside from both of them, sending it in a sizzling vortex up towards the ceiling. I swallowed and just managed to duck a simultaneous attack from the jadess.

The shield, the shield, I had to figure out how to get that shield back up around me…

I saw out of the corner of my eye, the jadess leap toward me, and prepared to dodge her fury once again.

Then, suddenly, I saw Casper rise up behind her, his eyes boiling, possessing the same fury I’d seen the day I’d snooped in his workshop, tall and powerful in spite of losing his magic. He seized the arm she was pointing at me.

She whirled around, hissing and spitting, and I could see the jadess looking at him, turning her deceitful eyes on him, but I could do nothing about that at the moment. If she still had power over him, we were all lost. I took a deep breath and managed to throw my shield back up. Several bolts from the hedge-wizard deflected uselessly off it.

I used my magic to stifle and block the hedge-wizard’s as best I could. “Stefan!” I yelled. “Do something about him!”

“Blast it, do what?”

I glanced over at him and Paulina and realized they were still tangled up in the ropey remains of the jadess’s spell. I sent what I could of it across the room at the hedge-wizard.

The jadess broke free of Casper just as I turned my attention back to her. I raised my arms and threw everything I had at her.

Stefan, Paulina, and Casper followed the entanglement spell I had re-directed to the hedge-wizard. There was not much more I could do than hope they could keep him out of the fight.

My magic and the jadess’s met in the centre of the room with a clash. Light shot around the room, scorching the walls, narrowly missing the corner where the others were now struggling to hold back the hedge-wizard. My will strove with the jadess’s. I blasted down what I now realized were her own protective shields around her, and she tore apart mine.

“I will have you!” she shrieked. “Your power should’ve been mine, and by all that’s dear to me, it will be.”

I stumbled back, threw up my shield again, and felt it shudder under her next attack. I could see no way to get the better of her. Our battle was even. I sincerely regretted not learning to use my magic before, or I might have found a way to get the better of her. There was a vague, hazy feeling in the back of my mind that my magic was stronger than the coat’s. At least the jadess was a novice too, and neither of us could better the other.

Was I cursed to be forever struggling against the power of this jadess I did not have the ability to defeat?

“Blast you!” I screamed.

Light tore past my ear. Sparks shimmered in front of my eyes. I felt walls explode.

“Polly!” I heard Stefan yell behind me. “Polly, here!”

I turned, shielding myself as effectively from her magic as I could. Stefan stood up and threw something at me in a long, glittering arc. I caught it. In my hand lay Stefan’s clear, teardrop earring.

Then I understood. My shield was beginning to buckle under repeated attacks, but I managed with shaking hands to get that earring in my ear. Then my shield collapsed and I was thrown across the room.

The jadess uttered a low cry of triumph. “Casper!” I screamed.

At the other side of the room, Casper stood, wonderingly fingering his earring that was now linked with mine, and I could feel him on the end of it. Then his fury, power and anger returned full force, and he raised his arms, siphoning power out of me. The jadess gave another shriek.

Then Casper had her encased in a pulsing haze of blue. Her eyes burned. Her hands twisted.

She called forth all the power in the diamond coat, and it met my power that Casper was using with a bang. The blue haze burst outward. Then the jadess was running, swifter than the wind to the chamber doors…

I was too stunned yet to stop her, and Casper was recoiling. Stefan shouted something I couldn’t hear.

Then in the doorway suddenly a figure loomed up. It was the gypsy. Shock jittered down my spine.

The jadess stopped. “Move!” she cried. Then a flame of writhing red from Casper had her, and the coat was enveloped as she shrieked. Her face contorted. She fell to the ground, got up, and ran.

***

Casper let her got this time, watching her sadly.

“I stripped all her powers,” he said softly. “It’s a terrible thing to do to anyone, and only the strongest magic-users can do anything about the powers of a jadess. But if she handles the next couple days, she will – survive.”

He stood silently for a few moments, staring into the darkness the jadess had disappeared into. “I made her into a normal young woman, with a life-span probably shorter than it would have been. Maybe she’ll make something of it. Perhaps she’ll even learn to feel emotion; it can be learnt, you know.”

I let out a breath. “My power could strip a jadess?”

Casper undid the red teardrop I had always seen hanging from his left ear and handed it to me. “Your power is astoundingly strong, Polly.”

I stared at his earring in my hand. “What am I to do with this?”

He glanced at it, then glanced away.

“Wear it with the one you’ve got.” He looked down. “I’ve no use for it.

Slowly, I realized he meant he no longer had magic. I couldn’t imagine Casper not being an Enchanter, but here he was. I looked up at him. “You destroyed your coat.”

The smallest trace of a grin lightened his face. “I did want to be rid of that old thing, anyway.”

And I managed a grin in return. I thought of the black flagstone back at the Peak, and knew how much he had really wanted to.

I could’ve stood there in the moonlight grinning at him forever, but Casper lifted his eyes beyond my shoulder. I turned to see the gypsy lounged against the door, studying the scene with interest. I still wondered what he was doing here. On the other side of him, Stefan had hurried over to Paulina, and now they stood, talking softly to each other in the moonlight streaming down through the broken roof.

Casper’s eyes were directed straight at them.

“You won’t get a word of sense out of them now,” he said, wryly.

Stefan had grasped both of Paulina’s hands, and Paulina was blushing. I resisted the urge to analyze Casper’s expression at this. I didn’t dare, I didn’t want to know what might be seen in his eyes. I could only nod – they certainly didn’t look like they could produce a word of sense between the two of them.

The gypsy went over to the hedge-wizard, who seemed to have fainted, and shook him until he sat up.

“We’ll let you leave,” he said, “If you give us your object of magic. Now.”

The hedge-wizard paled. Then he fumbled in his pockets and came up with a grubby little purse.

“Sabean work,” said the gypsy, holding it up to the light. “Very well, you may leave now. But beware of causing any more mischief.”

The hedge-wizard was only too ready to disappear into the night. I could hear his pattering feet rush down the halls.

“We cannot stay here,” said Casper.

“I – I was hoping you could transport us to Angaria,” I said to him. I slowly extended the earring he’d just handed to me back to him. “I don’t have much control over this magic yet.”

Angaria. Angaria seemed like the sensible place to go. Not the Peak, which was in ruins anyway, and not to the Chaldean court. Angaria was where Paulina and I had come from, before all of this had started.

Except everything I thought I knew about Angaria had been turned on its head now as well.

I did not know how to deal with that thought. Casper just nodded, frowned, and took the earring back. “One last time,” he said, and called Paulina and Stefan over. They came, hand in hand, and beaming all over their faces. My heart twinged as I looked at them. I was still trying to figure out why when Casper began the transport…

Then as the world went dark around me I knew. I knew I had to admit it. I wished what they had for myself, and knew with my heart what my mind had been denying for a long time now.

Go to The King: Chapter 30A