Nobody, darnit

Looking back on my recent journal entries, they seem to consist mainly of pictures. Well, right now you're going to get another picture of a painting, since otherwise, I'm going to start ranting about how annoying confusing legalese is and how I've finally decided that I'm going to vote against every single incumbent politician in every single election for the rest of my life, since they're all clearly interchangeable little automatons or pod people or something.

So here's a painting I did in watered down acrylics, of my favorite amberine glass goblet and a pocket knife. I wanted to play with lighting, so naturally, I picked the hardest thing in my house. But, the more I look at it, the more I like it.

All right, I'll add my 2 cents to the John Wright brouhaha. And if you don't know what that is, your brain is better off. I'm not going to address his rant itself, just talk about his books, because everyone's all, "I'm never going to buy his books!" Well I've read them, so you don't have to.
His books are the ones I mentioned way back here. Somewhere I've got a half-written review of his books, but I can't find it right now, so what I say may be disorganized. Minor spoilers ahead.

When I started reading the Orphans of Chaos trilogy, I loved them. LOVED them. To begin with, the concept is fascinating. Basically, there's different races (humanity being one) with different operational paradigms. Each of the five main characters, teenagers all alone in an English orphanage, belong to one of these races. It's got Greek gods, ceremonial magic, wacky multi-dimensional beings and more, all in one place! All the races relate to each other, and each one overpowers another, just like rock, paper, scissors. This also provides for marvelous D/s potential, and when I got the book, based on what I'd heard, I expected it to be a very kinky, erotic-oriented book. I was sort of right.

Now me, I usually keep my vast amounts of kink to myself. When I realize I've slipped some into my writing, it sort of feels like I've just shown my underpants to people. I'm actually torn when it comes to seeing the topic in non-erotica. (If it is erotica, than you can get away with anything, and I won't care about the social implications. Objectify away!) Sometimes, it's nicely done, other times, I feel like I'm being flashed. Where's the line between keeping our tendencies private and giving the practice healthy exposure? (I suppose the answer is the same as any sex in books--does it serve the story? In Orphans of Chaos' case, I'd say, no.) Anyway, I'm rambling. Point is, Orphans of Chaos is full of D/s that I don't think he fully appreciates the implications of. Having read his rant, I definitely think he's not aware his pervy undies are showing.

Aside from the whole, "does he think women should actually be treated like that?" question which nagged me throughout, there's the complete dismissal of the Irish. Bear with me, I'll get back to that.

One of the problems the book has is that when the five main characters are together, their relationships shine, and everything is awesome. When they're one on one, the relationships are a little more neglected. This wasn't the case at the start of the series, but somewhere along the way, that changed. The narrator, Amelia, pines for Victor, the eldest of their gang. They have a nice first scene together, but after that, there's only her pining for this incredibly boring guy. These are one pov books, and I wish it could be otherwise, because everyone else is neglected. Victor represents rational materialism--magic doesn't work on him, because, duh, magic doesn't exist. Not in his paradigm. He could be interesting if we were allowed into his head. Forming the third corner of a love triangle is Colin. He's not actually Irish, but he's formed his identity around Celtic/Irish conceits. He's emotional, sensual, irrational and energetic. He's the one whose relationship with Amelia is actually handled in some depth. He's the only one outside of Amelia whose personal story I actually feel. The power dynamic between Colin and Amelia is explored (his race tops her race) but not the one between her and Victor (her race tops his. It's mentioned only once that she can shut down his life functions like a light switch.) And at the end, even though he never seriously exploited his power over her, Colin's love for Amelia is dismissed in an instant. Even the bad guy gets more understanding and consideration than poor Colin. Colin was bit of a dick, but not so much that he deserves to be shoved aside without even an, "I'm sorry this can't work out."
It was only at the very end, after Colin's sudden status as non-entity, that I wondered, "Does this have anything to do with England's racism against the Irish?" A racism, which, by the way, boggles me* a little because I live in a land that romanticizes the Irish.

Wright's far-rightness only comes out a few times, and usually in half-joking but still creepy ways. (Paraphrasing: "What if I used to someone awful, like a murderer, or someone who didn't like Margaret Thatcher?")

Anyway, that's the stuff I remember about the books, and if not for those serious concerns I had, they'd totally be among my favoritist favorite books ever.

*Even though my Irish-descended great-aunt was forcibly sterilized by a racist surgeon!