Anyway, It’s Not About The Character Being Redeemable Or Irredeemable, It’s About Whether The Character

It’s an epic false dichotomy we’ve got in the US and the hope that we’ll escape it is what keeps me going.

Realizing that you can (should! must!) have compassion for everybody and you needn’t (shouldn’t! can’t!) pick and choose who to look out for based on what’s popular or who you personally like or any other qualification other than who happens to be existing in your sphere of influence and who needs your help can be a tough pill to swallow in today’s political scene. May God provide all of us with a big sip of water to get it down.

The thing about political polarization that really gets me is what do you mean I have to pick between caring about the unborn and the elderly, or minorities and the poor??? Sounds like a totally made-up rule to me. Skill issue. I CHOOSE ALL.

"If you’re going to care about the fall of the sparrow you can’t pick and choose who’s going to be the sparrow. It’s everybody, and you’re stuck with it." - Madeleine L'Engle

“The Devil works hard, but AO3 authors work harder,” I mutter to myself like a mantra as encouragement while I trudge my way through my 10 year old WIP, which is not published on AO3.

“Some people read with their feet,” is a quote that’s been relevant since the day I heard it (and before that, to be so honest), and something else that’s rattling around in my brain is some post (I’ve got no hope of finding the original as I can’t even recall what website I saw it on) saying something along the lines of “it tracks that the Pevensies are British and that the moment they found themselves in an unfamiliar place they declared themselves its royal family.”

If you want to talk about colonialism, talk about colonialism, but it does frustrate me to see a point missed so thoroughly. I hate to see it missed and I love this particular aspect of the series, so I’m going to take a moment to talk about it.

The Pevensies did not declare themselves royalty. Becoming kings and queens was not their idea. This was an expectation that the people of Narnia had for them, and when the kids were informed of this expectation, they found it daunting, to say the least.

This theme recurs almost beat-for-beat with Caspian, who is very openly unsure of himself and his ability to rule Narnia. It evolves with Eustace, who begins his arc unable to even consider the possibility of himself doing something important for Narnia or vice versa. It returns with Jill, who gets angry at being saddled with a mission that feels altogether too big for her.

The premise that keeps coming up throughout the series is this concept of worthiness and capability. The takeaway is not that some people are made superior or that people can make themselves superior. The takeaway is that you will feel inferior. In fact, if you feel superior, you are probably delusional: a danger to yourself and others. You will feel inferior, but that is neither a sentence to accomplish only little in life, nor an excuse for only accomplishing little in life. You will be afraid and insecure and uncertain and embarrassed, but you can and must do great things nonetheless. We are, all of us, made for greatness.

As soon as I get a grave, the first thing I’m gonna do is start rolling in it.

Petition to start referring to Susan Pevensie's arc as "The Tragedy of Susan" rather than "The Problem of Susan." Her arc is not defined by the "problem" of growing up; it is the tragedy of forgetting she is a queen.

In Prince Caspian, we see the seeds of this. "It's no good behaving like kids now that we are back in Narnia," Peter tells her when she is afraid of entering the treasure chamber in the ruins of Cair Paravel. "You're a Queen here." Aslan does not chide her for being too grown-up to believe in him; he lends her his breath for bravery so that she can stop listening to her fears. Susan's "problem" in this book is in fact that she behaves more like a child than a queen.

In many ways, Susan's arc parallels Prince Rilian's in The Silver Chair. He is the Lost Prince; she becomes the Lost Queen. He is enchanted to forget who he really is. The Green Lady twists his birthright so that he is going to conquer his own land and rule as a usurper--the land where he is meant to be the rightful ruler! He unconsciously trades his role as the true prince for a false kingship (similar to Edmund trading his birthright as a true king of Narnia for the Witch's false promise to make him a prince ... hey, you'd almost think this was a theme or something).

Susan likewise trades her identity as queen for a false substitute in England, exchanging the substance for the shadow. She is a child pretending to be a grown-up, not actually being grown-up. Lewis never says there's anything inherently wrong with "lipstick and nylons and invitations," but they are merely the outward trappings of society. What makes a person a king or queen comes from inside. When Rilian returns to Narnia, he is instantly recognized as a prince, despite his lack of a crown or any of the other formal trappings of royalty. He is recognized because he is no longer hidden by the armor of the Green Lady--and so he looks like himself. In fact, he not only looks like himself, he looks like his father. (Which is also how Lord Bern recognizes Caspian in the Lone Islands, despite Caspian not having any outward proof of his kingship--Caspian looks and sounds like his father. Shasta is recognized as a prince because of his resemblance to his brother--oh hey, we've got another theme going.)

Susan has put on the armor of the world, and in doing so has lost herself as queen. That is what makes her arc a tragedy. But! There is always, always hope. Rilian is rescued. Shasta is restored to his true identity as Prince Cor. Edmund is redeemed. Aslan breathes on Susan. Caspian's kingship restores right order to the Lone Islands. No one is ever irredeemably lost.

Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.

Even when they themselves have forgotten who they truly are.

Currently color-coding my subplots and fellas. I fear I need the shrimp colors now.

TBOSAS showed us why Snow believes poor kids from 12 can be influential and SOTR showed us that he still lives in fear of that decades later. Snow was working double-time to make Haymitch look bad—and still couldn’t do it!

The recap cut out him holding Lou Lou while she died, trying to save Ampert (don’t even get me started on how it’s because of Haymitch that the last interaction Ampert ever had with another person was a gesture of affection and a compliment), working out how to call off the porcupine (only possible because the distorted crying sound reminded him of consoling his baby brother), trying with Maysilee to revive Hull, sharing the chocolate with Silka because she was crying, admitting to Maysilee that he didn’t want her to leave . . . and the few positive aspects they were forced to leave in (e.g. defending Maysilee, killing only in self-defense) were enough for 12 to welcome him home with open arms.

They held him back from going in the house to die with his family, Louella’s mom took him in and told him it wasn’t his fault, and his friends tried to stick by him until he literally beat them off.

I can only conclude Snow only hated him so much primarily because he knew Haymitch was loved and going to stay that way, whereas Snow had long since ruined his own life. He comes down on Haymitch like a ton of bricks because, from the moment he laid Louella’s body down in front of him, Snow’s known that Haymitch sees him for what he really is, sees the Hunger Games for what they really are, and he’s petrified that Haymitch might make other people see it, too.

Tired of stories where the author worldbuilds a whole religion only to chicken out at the last moment by making the main character a skeptic. You mean to tell me that there’s all this richness in lore and culture, but you’ve trapped me with the one person in this society who doesn’t care about it? So bland. I could meet an agnostic easily enough by walking down the street, but your story is my one chance to hear the perspective of someone who follows whatever religion you’ve contrived. You made this whole world; convince me that your character really is from there.