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elabyI signed up for Yuletide, the obscure fandom fanfic exchange! Whee!
Holy crap, they have Njal's Saga listed as a fandom on there O.o They don't have the Nibelungenlied, though! Sadness.
Right now, I'm reading some hardboiled detective fiction - The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler. Marlowe doesn't make me want to strangle him*! Yay! It's funny, and very bizarre, and apparently Raymond Chandler started his career writing poetry in the style of the late Romantics. Knowing that, I can see it in his writing. Marlowe is also fairly self-deprecating and occasionally makes interestingly insightful but seemingly offhand comments about himself. Something I find really weird (but interesting) about this era of writing is that entire stories can be written in the first person and you still have NO IDEA what actually makes that person tick. It's like... In this story, you're Marlowe's eyeballs. You're seeing things from his point of view, you see everything he sees and hear what he says, but as for what's going on in his mind... that's a mystery.
I want to read moooore! I'm hoping I get more clues about Marlowe in the other stories I have in the omnibus I'm reading (it's got Farewell, My Lovely and... something else. The Lady in the Lake.)
*I say this because Sam Spade does. After writing 25 pages exploring his vitriolic hatred of anyone not male/white/straight/emotionally repressed, I harbor a great deal of animosity toward him. As if you probably couldn't guess.
Holy crap, they have Njal's Saga listed as a fandom on there O.o They don't have the Nibelungenlied, though! Sadness.
Right now, I'm reading some hardboiled detective fiction - The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler. Marlowe doesn't make me want to strangle him*! Yay! It's funny, and very bizarre, and apparently Raymond Chandler started his career writing poetry in the style of the late Romantics. Knowing that, I can see it in his writing. Marlowe is also fairly self-deprecating and occasionally makes interestingly insightful but seemingly offhand comments about himself. Something I find really weird (but interesting) about this era of writing is that entire stories can be written in the first person and you still have NO IDEA what actually makes that person tick. It's like... In this story, you're Marlowe's eyeballs. You're seeing things from his point of view, you see everything he sees and hear what he says, but as for what's going on in his mind... that's a mystery.
I want to read moooore! I'm hoping I get more clues about Marlowe in the other stories I have in the omnibus I'm reading (it's got Farewell, My Lovely and... something else. The Lady in the Lake.)
*I say this because Sam Spade does. After writing 25 pages exploring his vitriolic hatred of anyone not male/white/straight/emotionally repressed, I harbor a great deal of animosity toward him. As if you probably couldn't guess.
