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escritoireazul) wrote2006-01-20 09:55 pm
escritoireazul) wrote2006-01-20 09:55 pm
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melannen in iamtheenemy's feedback challenge. It is cut because sometimes I do not know when to stop rambling (even though I still feel I should have said even more).
“The Tale of the Giant’s Daughter” (Harry Potter)
First I have to say I love retold stories, legends, myths. I especially love them when they are retold in fanfiction, with familiar characters used in unfamiliar ways. This is a wonderful example of such a tale, utilizing characters who do not get many stories told about them.
This is the story of Hagrid’s parents, his father and his mother, and one way they might have met and fallen in love. This is also the story of an evil giant who hordes magical riches and slaughters all who come against him.
And from the snidget fell an egg, and Fridwulfa caught it in her hand. And she turned to see her father coming up the bridge, and held the egg up to his eye, and smiled, and crushed her father's life between her fingers, and he fell dead to the ground.
This in particular is very well presented, Fridwulfa’s revenge on the father who calls her name and devalues her worth. The pacing of it works well, and utilizes all the best rhythms of the story; especially wonderful is the way she holds up the egg and smiles as she crushes her father’s life between her fingers. He has tormented so many for so long, and is destroyed in such a (relatively) small way.
"It is a very easy spell, the spell that separates one's life from one's body and hides it in a secret place. But you have seen the great weakness-- if the secret is given away, then the life has no defense." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It is too bad there is no such spell to keep a secret safe."
"Actually," said Jack. "I have thought on that. If a life can be charmed away and hidden in a secret place, so that as long as the secret is inviolate the life is safe, why could there not be a charm that would hide a secret in a living thing, so that as long as the life is intact the secret is safe?"
"That is a brilliant idea," said Dumbledore. "As a matter of fact, by pure coincidence, some friends of mine are working on developing something based on that principle; would you be interested in joining them?"
There is so much here to love I’m not even sure where to begin. I love the way Dumbledore baits Jack and encourages without being direct; the theories here, the way to keep secrets, the prequel to what will be so important in the actual Harry Potter series, Hagrid’s father theorizing—it’s all very nicely done.
The only complaint I had here was that when Dumbledore uses “some friends of mine” it doesn’t sound like it fits into the rest of the story.
So Jack earned his fortune as a researcher, and Fridwulfa bore him a laughing, strapping son, and the hippogriff hunted in the forest behind their cottage, and they all lived happily ever after to the end of their days.
What a nice happy ending, Jack’s strong research and the laughing, strapping son so many of us have grown to love, and Buckbeak hunting in the forest and oh. This is adorable and sweet.
Even better is the unhappy ever after addition to the end.
--Until Fridwulfa got bored and ran off with another giant, and Jack died of a fever, and their son was framed for murder and disgraced, and the hippogriff was condemned to death and went into hiding, but that's a story for another teller. I like to leave off with a happy ending, don't you?
I love the flow of this, the simple way all these complex storylines are presented: Jack’s death effects Hagrid immensely, and Buckbeak’s condemnation pulled in Hermione, Harry, and Ron and wrapped them together even more as a team—here it’s just a few short lines, but it still carries all the weight of what’s to come.
“I Must Not Tell Lies” (Harry Potter)
I wouldn’t have sought this pairing, Ginny and Umbridge, but I’m glad I had the opportunity to read this story. I like dark stories, twisted sides to familiar characters, and especially stories about obsession.
I really enjoyed this story, but there were moments when the word choice was awkward, or the rhythm broken, and the momentum of the narrative is lost, the building darkness shattered.
Part of the problem is in the format, I think. The paragraphs all have similar, medium lengths, and the images and ideas are layered one atop another. In some places, this works well, building the reader’s feelings of disgust coupled with interest until it mirrors the obsession Ginny feels.
At other times, it just becomes too much. The good lines, dangerous descriptions, get lost in the thick buildup of words. Breaking up some of the paragraph into shorter ones, and even solo lines, would allow some of the better examples to stand on their own.
Ron doesn't understand when Ginny starts having detentions with Professor Umbridge every night. He's a little bit proud, and a little protective; he wants her to know that she doesn't have to keep doing this, doesn't have to keep provoking the Professor's punishment just to show that she is one of them.
This is great Ron characterization, and a perfect way to set-up the way Ginny is presented in the source material. Ron is a good big brother, a normal big brother, proud of her for being like him, but he doesn’t want her to get hurt.
Right away, it’s clear Ginny is not acting like a normal girl, nor do her thoughts synch with the way the others (especially Harry) sees her.
He's never written with a quill inked in his own pain. He doesn't understand the terrible ecstasy of feeling her life drawn into the page as she writes, and has to keep writing, as the words cut into her and cut her apart. Her blood, red as snakes' eyes, draining her selfness safely away into the parchment as the other tells her she is worthless, she is useless, she is nothing. Ron doesn't understand that she goes because she likes it, because she spends her days remembering that feeling of draining away, becoming empty, because she walks into that classroom with a thrill to lose herself in the exquisite pain.
This is a perfect example of the solid block of text being too much. The really great images are lost in the mish-mash of the whole. Ginny describing her own blood as “snakes’ eyes” and the way she drains her self into the parchment, safely into the parchment at that, these are strong images with powerful meanings to her characterization, but they are lost in the repetition and the length of the paragraph. White space would have helped this be stronger, and would have let the story flow better, rolling smoothly from one disturbance to the next. The reader would be able to process the images and not get overwhelmed.
Percy thinks it's about power. Percy thinks it's about Delores abusing her power as a teacher to prove she has power over Professor Dumbledore and Percy's family, to show she's more powerful than Percy. Percy thinks that now that he knows, he has power over Delores, that he can make her do what he wants, that he can make her stop doing his little sister.
I love this Percy, how his thoughts always turn to power, but how he also wants to protect his little sister, despite his estrangement from his family.
The phrase “stop doing his little sister” sounds out of character for both Percy and Ginny, though I can see how it was an attempt at purposeful repetition.
Ginny, who is not even real, can do this, can make this happen, can make her feel, can feel real.
This is a strong line, and a good path to the heart of the story. I would have liked to see it set off on its own for impact.
Tom would understand that you must despise someone, look upon them with such contempt that you couldn't care less about anything that they say or do, and then you can be anything with them, can be nothing and be real, powerful and powerless and shameful and unashamed. And then they become something precious to you, something that you cannot allow to be taken away from you. He would understand about how they devour each other and create each other. She could tell him about the way she feels, when Delores has a wand or a hand inside her, how she feels so unbearably full and yet so empty, as if she will give birth to something dark and damaged and terrible.
This is a place where the layered descriptions work well, the build-up of Tom, what Tom believes (and therefore what Ginny believes), the flow from despising to being precious, the fine lines between them.
Tom, Tom she could talk to. Tom she could be real for.
This, at the end of the above paragraph, feels tacked on and unnecessary. There has already been commentary on how Ginny doesn’t feel real, not even with Luna, and it is obvious Tom would understand. This is too much showing and not telling; the reader can extrapolate these lines from the rest of the text.
But Tom is gone. Dolores isn't. And she must not tell lies.
This, too, feels unnecessary, at least in part. The italics don’t add anything to the reading of it, and the “she” seems to refer directly back to Dolores. If this was the intent, it didn’t make sense, because throughout Ginny has been building her own self through her interactions with Dolores, and it feels like the “she” should refer to Ginny, and the lies she shows the others, the outside appearance, but the effect is forced.
“With Eye and With Gesture” (Harry Potter)
Ginny only grins maliciously, walking over to him. "So that's it," she says. "You're bored. Great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, savior of the wizarding world, victor against Voldemort twice before he was twenty-- you're bored to tears. Can't descend to the level of ordinary mortals and sit in an office all day; oh no, he needs to be out trying to kill someone or he comes home and kicks kittens."
I really like this introduction to Ginny, after all we’ve seen is her knitting. It’s obvious there is something a little off about her, in the way she phrases her sentences, but what I particularly enjoy is the fact this could be Ginny speaking, it fits her just as it fits Tom, and I like the comparison of the two.
it its not his best friend's little sister he sees in his mind's eye but the slim, dark-haired boy who has haunted his dreams and nightmares since he was twelve, whom he has hated and admired, envied and pitied, desired and destroyed.
The typo here is distracting, but worse is the idea that Harry, who has obviously kissed Ginny enough to know exactly how she always kisses (and seems likely to be married to her) describes how he doesn’t see her not as “it is not his wife (girlfriend, whatever) he sees in his mind’s eye” but “his best friend’s little sister” as if, for all earlier in the story he describes her as her own self, she is still nothing but a Weasley, Ron’s pesky younger sibling, harboring an unrequited crush on Harry. It didn’t fit the rest of the narrative, and really jerked me out of the story.
“Oh, all of it," she says, flicking a lock of coppery hair behind her shoulder. "He hasn't been able to hide anything from me for ages. I'm much stronger than he is." She says this matter-of-factly, as if any young witch would be capable, every day, of utterly defeating the Dark Lord in a battle of willpower. He watches her, little more than a smear of fire in the dimness, and suddenly no longer regrets that it has turned out to be her, after all. He pulls her to him and kisses her with all the fierceness he had offered the other, and she answers, and it's all Ginny, but there's more than a little of Tom in what she gives him too.
I love this section, absolutely adore it, and the way Ginny is so matter of fact about the way she can defeat the Dark Lord in a battle of wills, even if it is just a bit of his memory in her brain.
The description “little more than a smear of fire in the dimness” is spot on and breathtaking.
The kneazle kitten, which Harry recalls was rather cruelly named Colin after its tendency to follow him around worshipfully, pokes its head cautiously around the back of the couch. It seems to have forgiven the kick, as it climbs into his lap and starts purring. He pets it absentmindedly.
Hee. This last bit made me laugh, which I always appreciate, especially at the end of such a—not serious, not really solemn, maybe heavy?—story which deals with such interesting ideas: possession, the taint of another’s self, desire, need. It’s all handled nicely, and the switch to the semi-light-hearted image of Harry and kitten Colin is nice.
“Dance by the Light of the Moon” (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/It’s A Wonderful Life)
I just need a moment to squee here, for utter and pure squee. Oh, the happiness I have. This is the most amazing crossover.
I mean, when this:
"No angels," Dru breathed, stepping up against the man again. "No peaches for William, no angels for Georgie, no wings for Peter and Paul. And only bells to pay Old Bailey with. Do you want to die, nice man?"
is the summary, how can you not love it?
"She wanted me to give her flower a drink, but I couldn't, I couldn't paste it back together-- it was all falling apart--"
"Know the feeling," Spike said. Dru frowned at him and he smirked and shrugged back at her, saying indulgently, "Drink then, white flower."
Crazy Drusilla and indulgent Spike is one of my favorite versions of them, and I love the imagery here, the use of the flower falling apart and Dru as Spike’s flower.
It was Violet; he would have known her by that awful hat, if nothing else. She was the same girl who had fluttered in and out of his life since he was a boy; he remembered kissing her in his office, and the way Potter had said her name as if it were a slimy thing; and she was pale and grey and he had torn her throat away from her. He dropped her and looked at the stranger. "What's going on here?"
I love the rhythm and the description here, the way George talks about Violet, the way she fluttered in and out of his life, and her name as a slimy thing, and the pale, gray, torn away throat—this is just lovely.
"Has our little fledgling earned his wings?"
Nice, nice, nice! Nice way to twist the too-sweet bells and angels of the source material.
He touched it to his tongue and tasted it, seawater and rust and power and goodness and life, and he was suddenly filled with a realization of his own strength, his potential, endless horizons of freedom and possibility stretching around him, for the first time unhemmed by worries and limitations, and he could have laughed. He did laugh. He could have shouted for the pure joy of it, could have run through the streets leaping, feeling the love for this crummy little town now that it didn't own him anymore.
Again, this is great, the description, the way the blood tastes, the way he thinks he could shout for joy and run leaping through the streets. Nice use of the original images, twisted to line up with Spike and Dru.
"You're feeling it now, aren't you?" Spike asked him, low-voiced. "You're feeling the poetry of it. Exulting. Exalted. Effulgent. Sparkling through with life. But the thing of it is-- and it's a real kicker of a thing, ain't it?-- is that you aren't alive anymore. You died yesterday, on the bridge, just like you wanted, and you'd ought to thank Dru for it, if you had any manners. We even did you the favor of dumping you off after instead of letting you crawl your way out of the dirt like's the old way. 'Cause I thought it was a damn shame, man like you going to dust in a dusty little shithole of a town like this, and I let you come back. You're a vampire now, George Bailey, and I've the honor of being your sire, and you've had your bit of fun, now it's time you learned your place."
Gah. This is Spike, wonderful Spike, with William’s bloody poetic words and “it’s a real kicker of a thing, ain’t it” sounded perfect in my head, and the way he tells he isn’t alive anymore, and must find his place. The comparison of dumping George off the bridge instead of burying him and making him fight his way to the surface, and the man going to dust in the shithole town, that was wonderful, especially from a vampire who could go to dust if he died (again).
"And I'm not the sort of Sire who'll beat on you, unless you're asking for it, or I really feel like it, and as long as you remember that I rather think we'll get on fine."
I love that! Love it!
I couldn’t resist going to read some of the short, short fiction in your memories, so I’ll do a couple here to make up for the fact they’re not longer stories. (Though this would be a lot easier if the memories function would work more than one-quarter of the time.)
“Love Story In Precisely 23 Words”
It is hard to write short stories, probably harder to write a good super short work than a novel, because the language must be pared down to absolute perfection and each word must carry multiple meanings and images.
Luna only knows
things which aren't real: she knows she
loves Hermione.
Hermione knows:
Luna kisses silver and
exact like the moon.
This does it well. The first paragraph (I want to say stanza, but I think paragraph works better) is a little heavy with the repetition; in such a short space, the double use of “knows” is too much.
However, the second paragraph, the description, the “Luna kisses silver and exact like the moon” is fantastic. It’s everything short fiction should be, clean and precise, with all the unnecessary but decorative words peeled away.
“Densaugeo”
Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't see what was so funny. Okay, so it was a giant, silver, animated, smiley-faced, dancing molar that scrubbed away dementors with its trusty sparkly toothbrush, but. . .
Oh, oh, oh. I just hurt myself laughing. I love Hermione’s Patronus!
“George”
They usually called him George.
That was the name he gave when they found him on the battlefield -- the only name he spoke for weeks. Since the two had always been identical down to the last freckle, they'd no choice but to go by what he said.
Before, they'd been distinct in the way they moved, their personalities. Fred was the boisterous one, always doing and teasing; George's merriment was subdued, rippling like a current under everything he said and did.
This one just sat at the Burrow's kitchen table, and, sometimes, tried to do the Prophet crossword by himself.
I just—there’s so much here which is wonderful, especially in such a short amount of space. I love the opening line; it’s very powerful, hits hard, even before the reader knows what’s actually coming.
I love the description of George, how he is “subdued, rippling like a current under everything he said and did.”
I really, really love the way he, sometimes, tries to do the crossword by himself. Love it so much.
“Padfoot”
I love all the mix of names of characters we know and their new last names, as children of people we love in the source material. And I really like this bit:
Lily Weasley was reading her Magical Creatures textbook aloud, studying for NEWTS. "The Grim, a huge, ghostly black dog, often considered merely a death omen, can also act as a guardian spirit. In this role it is called a 'Padfoot.'"
Also wonderful is the way he helps even more when they’re causing trouble.
“of course there must be lots of Magic in the world”
Did I say earlier it was the best crossover ever? This one is only slightly behind it because it’s so short, but even this (far too short) combination of Harry Potter and The Secret Garden makes me so happy I can’t believe it.
"They'll do that, this time o' year," said Dickon. "For th' right sort o' person. I'd one myself, when I was thy age, but I cared too much for my wild things o' the moor. You and Miss Mary, now-- tha'lt take to it, I reckon. This'ns yours."
Mary lifted the owl wonderingly. "It's carrying letters!" She handed Colin his and opened hers, labelled in green script:
Now I really, really, really want to read about Mary and Colin (and Dickon, I assume?) at Hogwarts. Oh, I can’t believe this desire.
Thank you so much for sharing all your writing; I really enjoyed what I’ve read, and I hope to have the chance to read even more in the future.
This was a really great idea; I had a lot of fun reading the work of someone I'd never even heard of, much less read before. I think I need to spend some more time reading and feedback all sorts of people (when, I don't know, I really need a way to stop time so I can do this, work, write, and still sleep sometime--that or a body which doesn't need sleep. That's my ideal).
melannen in iamtheenemy's feedback challenge. It is cut because sometimes I do not know when to stop rambling (even though I still feel I should have said even more).“The Tale of the Giant’s Daughter” (Harry Potter)
First I have to say I love retold stories, legends, myths. I especially love them when they are retold in fanfiction, with familiar characters used in unfamiliar ways. This is a wonderful example of such a tale, utilizing characters who do not get many stories told about them.
This is the story of Hagrid’s parents, his father and his mother, and one way they might have met and fallen in love. This is also the story of an evil giant who hordes magical riches and slaughters all who come against him.
And from the snidget fell an egg, and Fridwulfa caught it in her hand. And she turned to see her father coming up the bridge, and held the egg up to his eye, and smiled, and crushed her father's life between her fingers, and he fell dead to the ground.
This in particular is very well presented, Fridwulfa’s revenge on the father who calls her name and devalues her worth. The pacing of it works well, and utilizes all the best rhythms of the story; especially wonderful is the way she holds up the egg and smiles as she crushes her father’s life between her fingers. He has tormented so many for so long, and is destroyed in such a (relatively) small way.
"It is a very easy spell, the spell that separates one's life from one's body and hides it in a secret place. But you have seen the great weakness-- if the secret is given away, then the life has no defense." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It is too bad there is no such spell to keep a secret safe."
"Actually," said Jack. "I have thought on that. If a life can be charmed away and hidden in a secret place, so that as long as the secret is inviolate the life is safe, why could there not be a charm that would hide a secret in a living thing, so that as long as the life is intact the secret is safe?"
"That is a brilliant idea," said Dumbledore. "As a matter of fact, by pure coincidence, some friends of mine are working on developing something based on that principle; would you be interested in joining them?"
There is so much here to love I’m not even sure where to begin. I love the way Dumbledore baits Jack and encourages without being direct; the theories here, the way to keep secrets, the prequel to what will be so important in the actual Harry Potter series, Hagrid’s father theorizing—it’s all very nicely done.
The only complaint I had here was that when Dumbledore uses “some friends of mine” it doesn’t sound like it fits into the rest of the story.
So Jack earned his fortune as a researcher, and Fridwulfa bore him a laughing, strapping son, and the hippogriff hunted in the forest behind their cottage, and they all lived happily ever after to the end of their days.
What a nice happy ending, Jack’s strong research and the laughing, strapping son so many of us have grown to love, and Buckbeak hunting in the forest and oh. This is adorable and sweet.
Even better is the unhappy ever after addition to the end.
--Until Fridwulfa got bored and ran off with another giant, and Jack died of a fever, and their son was framed for murder and disgraced, and the hippogriff was condemned to death and went into hiding, but that's a story for another teller. I like to leave off with a happy ending, don't you?
I love the flow of this, the simple way all these complex storylines are presented: Jack’s death effects Hagrid immensely, and Buckbeak’s condemnation pulled in Hermione, Harry, and Ron and wrapped them together even more as a team—here it’s just a few short lines, but it still carries all the weight of what’s to come.
“I Must Not Tell Lies” (Harry Potter)
I wouldn’t have sought this pairing, Ginny and Umbridge, but I’m glad I had the opportunity to read this story. I like dark stories, twisted sides to familiar characters, and especially stories about obsession.
I really enjoyed this story, but there were moments when the word choice was awkward, or the rhythm broken, and the momentum of the narrative is lost, the building darkness shattered.
Part of the problem is in the format, I think. The paragraphs all have similar, medium lengths, and the images and ideas are layered one atop another. In some places, this works well, building the reader’s feelings of disgust coupled with interest until it mirrors the obsession Ginny feels.
At other times, it just becomes too much. The good lines, dangerous descriptions, get lost in the thick buildup of words. Breaking up some of the paragraph into shorter ones, and even solo lines, would allow some of the better examples to stand on their own.
Ron doesn't understand when Ginny starts having detentions with Professor Umbridge every night. He's a little bit proud, and a little protective; he wants her to know that she doesn't have to keep doing this, doesn't have to keep provoking the Professor's punishment just to show that she is one of them.
This is great Ron characterization, and a perfect way to set-up the way Ginny is presented in the source material. Ron is a good big brother, a normal big brother, proud of her for being like him, but he doesn’t want her to get hurt.
Right away, it’s clear Ginny is not acting like a normal girl, nor do her thoughts synch with the way the others (especially Harry) sees her.
He's never written with a quill inked in his own pain. He doesn't understand the terrible ecstasy of feeling her life drawn into the page as she writes, and has to keep writing, as the words cut into her and cut her apart. Her blood, red as snakes' eyes, draining her selfness safely away into the parchment as the other tells her she is worthless, she is useless, she is nothing. Ron doesn't understand that she goes because she likes it, because she spends her days remembering that feeling of draining away, becoming empty, because she walks into that classroom with a thrill to lose herself in the exquisite pain.
This is a perfect example of the solid block of text being too much. The really great images are lost in the mish-mash of the whole. Ginny describing her own blood as “snakes’ eyes” and the way she drains her self into the parchment, safely into the parchment at that, these are strong images with powerful meanings to her characterization, but they are lost in the repetition and the length of the paragraph. White space would have helped this be stronger, and would have let the story flow better, rolling smoothly from one disturbance to the next. The reader would be able to process the images and not get overwhelmed.
Percy thinks it's about power. Percy thinks it's about Delores abusing her power as a teacher to prove she has power over Professor Dumbledore and Percy's family, to show she's more powerful than Percy. Percy thinks that now that he knows, he has power over Delores, that he can make her do what he wants, that he can make her stop doing his little sister.
I love this Percy, how his thoughts always turn to power, but how he also wants to protect his little sister, despite his estrangement from his family.
The phrase “stop doing his little sister” sounds out of character for both Percy and Ginny, though I can see how it was an attempt at purposeful repetition.
Ginny, who is not even real, can do this, can make this happen, can make her feel, can feel real.
This is a strong line, and a good path to the heart of the story. I would have liked to see it set off on its own for impact.
Tom would understand that you must despise someone, look upon them with such contempt that you couldn't care less about anything that they say or do, and then you can be anything with them, can be nothing and be real, powerful and powerless and shameful and unashamed. And then they become something precious to you, something that you cannot allow to be taken away from you. He would understand about how they devour each other and create each other. She could tell him about the way she feels, when Delores has a wand or a hand inside her, how she feels so unbearably full and yet so empty, as if she will give birth to something dark and damaged and terrible.
This is a place where the layered descriptions work well, the build-up of Tom, what Tom believes (and therefore what Ginny believes), the flow from despising to being precious, the fine lines between them.
Tom, Tom she could talk to. Tom she could be real for.
This, at the end of the above paragraph, feels tacked on and unnecessary. There has already been commentary on how Ginny doesn’t feel real, not even with Luna, and it is obvious Tom would understand. This is too much showing and not telling; the reader can extrapolate these lines from the rest of the text.
But Tom is gone. Dolores isn't. And she must not tell lies.
This, too, feels unnecessary, at least in part. The italics don’t add anything to the reading of it, and the “she” seems to refer directly back to Dolores. If this was the intent, it didn’t make sense, because throughout Ginny has been building her own self through her interactions with Dolores, and it feels like the “she” should refer to Ginny, and the lies she shows the others, the outside appearance, but the effect is forced.
“With Eye and With Gesture” (Harry Potter)
Ginny only grins maliciously, walking over to him. "So that's it," she says. "You're bored. Great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, savior of the wizarding world, victor against Voldemort twice before he was twenty-- you're bored to tears. Can't descend to the level of ordinary mortals and sit in an office all day; oh no, he needs to be out trying to kill someone or he comes home and kicks kittens."
I really like this introduction to Ginny, after all we’ve seen is her knitting. It’s obvious there is something a little off about her, in the way she phrases her sentences, but what I particularly enjoy is the fact this could be Ginny speaking, it fits her just as it fits Tom, and I like the comparison of the two.
it its not his best friend's little sister he sees in his mind's eye but the slim, dark-haired boy who has haunted his dreams and nightmares since he was twelve, whom he has hated and admired, envied and pitied, desired and destroyed.
The typo here is distracting, but worse is the idea that Harry, who has obviously kissed Ginny enough to know exactly how she always kisses (and seems likely to be married to her) describes how he doesn’t see her not as “it is not his wife (girlfriend, whatever) he sees in his mind’s eye” but “his best friend’s little sister” as if, for all earlier in the story he describes her as her own self, she is still nothing but a Weasley, Ron’s pesky younger sibling, harboring an unrequited crush on Harry. It didn’t fit the rest of the narrative, and really jerked me out of the story.
“Oh, all of it," she says, flicking a lock of coppery hair behind her shoulder. "He hasn't been able to hide anything from me for ages. I'm much stronger than he is." She says this matter-of-factly, as if any young witch would be capable, every day, of utterly defeating the Dark Lord in a battle of willpower. He watches her, little more than a smear of fire in the dimness, and suddenly no longer regrets that it has turned out to be her, after all. He pulls her to him and kisses her with all the fierceness he had offered the other, and she answers, and it's all Ginny, but there's more than a little of Tom in what she gives him too.
I love this section, absolutely adore it, and the way Ginny is so matter of fact about the way she can defeat the Dark Lord in a battle of wills, even if it is just a bit of his memory in her brain.
The description “little more than a smear of fire in the dimness” is spot on and breathtaking.
The kneazle kitten, which Harry recalls was rather cruelly named Colin after its tendency to follow him around worshipfully, pokes its head cautiously around the back of the couch. It seems to have forgiven the kick, as it climbs into his lap and starts purring. He pets it absentmindedly.
Hee. This last bit made me laugh, which I always appreciate, especially at the end of such a—not serious, not really solemn, maybe heavy?—story which deals with such interesting ideas: possession, the taint of another’s self, desire, need. It’s all handled nicely, and the switch to the semi-light-hearted image of Harry and kitten Colin is nice.
“Dance by the Light of the Moon” (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/It’s A Wonderful Life)
I just need a moment to squee here, for utter and pure squee. Oh, the happiness I have. This is the most amazing crossover.
I mean, when this:
"No angels," Dru breathed, stepping up against the man again. "No peaches for William, no angels for Georgie, no wings for Peter and Paul. And only bells to pay Old Bailey with. Do you want to die, nice man?"
is the summary, how can you not love it?
"She wanted me to give her flower a drink, but I couldn't, I couldn't paste it back together-- it was all falling apart--"
"Know the feeling," Spike said. Dru frowned at him and he smirked and shrugged back at her, saying indulgently, "Drink then, white flower."
Crazy Drusilla and indulgent Spike is one of my favorite versions of them, and I love the imagery here, the use of the flower falling apart and Dru as Spike’s flower.
It was Violet; he would have known her by that awful hat, if nothing else. She was the same girl who had fluttered in and out of his life since he was a boy; he remembered kissing her in his office, and the way Potter had said her name as if it were a slimy thing; and she was pale and grey and he had torn her throat away from her. He dropped her and looked at the stranger. "What's going on here?"
I love the rhythm and the description here, the way George talks about Violet, the way she fluttered in and out of his life, and her name as a slimy thing, and the pale, gray, torn away throat—this is just lovely.
"Has our little fledgling earned his wings?"
Nice, nice, nice! Nice way to twist the too-sweet bells and angels of the source material.
He touched it to his tongue and tasted it, seawater and rust and power and goodness and life, and he was suddenly filled with a realization of his own strength, his potential, endless horizons of freedom and possibility stretching around him, for the first time unhemmed by worries and limitations, and he could have laughed. He did laugh. He could have shouted for the pure joy of it, could have run through the streets leaping, feeling the love for this crummy little town now that it didn't own him anymore.
Again, this is great, the description, the way the blood tastes, the way he thinks he could shout for joy and run leaping through the streets. Nice use of the original images, twisted to line up with Spike and Dru.
"You're feeling it now, aren't you?" Spike asked him, low-voiced. "You're feeling the poetry of it. Exulting. Exalted. Effulgent. Sparkling through with life. But the thing of it is-- and it's a real kicker of a thing, ain't it?-- is that you aren't alive anymore. You died yesterday, on the bridge, just like you wanted, and you'd ought to thank Dru for it, if you had any manners. We even did you the favor of dumping you off after instead of letting you crawl your way out of the dirt like's the old way. 'Cause I thought it was a damn shame, man like you going to dust in a dusty little shithole of a town like this, and I let you come back. You're a vampire now, George Bailey, and I've the honor of being your sire, and you've had your bit of fun, now it's time you learned your place."
Gah. This is Spike, wonderful Spike, with William’s bloody poetic words and “it’s a real kicker of a thing, ain’t it” sounded perfect in my head, and the way he tells he isn’t alive anymore, and must find his place. The comparison of dumping George off the bridge instead of burying him and making him fight his way to the surface, and the man going to dust in the shithole town, that was wonderful, especially from a vampire who could go to dust if he died (again).
"And I'm not the sort of Sire who'll beat on you, unless you're asking for it, or I really feel like it, and as long as you remember that I rather think we'll get on fine."
I love that! Love it!
I couldn’t resist going to read some of the short, short fiction in your memories, so I’ll do a couple here to make up for the fact they’re not longer stories. (Though this would be a lot easier if the memories function would work more than one-quarter of the time.)
“Love Story In Precisely 23 Words”
It is hard to write short stories, probably harder to write a good super short work than a novel, because the language must be pared down to absolute perfection and each word must carry multiple meanings and images.
Luna only knows
things which aren't real: she knows she
loves Hermione.
Hermione knows:
Luna kisses silver and
exact like the moon.
This does it well. The first paragraph (I want to say stanza, but I think paragraph works better) is a little heavy with the repetition; in such a short space, the double use of “knows” is too much.
However, the second paragraph, the description, the “Luna kisses silver and exact like the moon” is fantastic. It’s everything short fiction should be, clean and precise, with all the unnecessary but decorative words peeled away.
“Densaugeo”
Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't see what was so funny. Okay, so it was a giant, silver, animated, smiley-faced, dancing molar that scrubbed away dementors with its trusty sparkly toothbrush, but. . .
Oh, oh, oh. I just hurt myself laughing. I love Hermione’s Patronus!
“George”
They usually called him George.
That was the name he gave when they found him on the battlefield -- the only name he spoke for weeks. Since the two had always been identical down to the last freckle, they'd no choice but to go by what he said.
Before, they'd been distinct in the way they moved, their personalities. Fred was the boisterous one, always doing and teasing; George's merriment was subdued, rippling like a current under everything he said and did.
This one just sat at the Burrow's kitchen table, and, sometimes, tried to do the Prophet crossword by himself.
I just—there’s so much here which is wonderful, especially in such a short amount of space. I love the opening line; it’s very powerful, hits hard, even before the reader knows what’s actually coming.
I love the description of George, how he is “subdued, rippling like a current under everything he said and did.”
I really, really love the way he, sometimes, tries to do the crossword by himself. Love it so much.
“Padfoot”
I love all the mix of names of characters we know and their new last names, as children of people we love in the source material. And I really like this bit:
Lily Weasley was reading her Magical Creatures textbook aloud, studying for NEWTS. "The Grim, a huge, ghostly black dog, often considered merely a death omen, can also act as a guardian spirit. In this role it is called a 'Padfoot.'"
Also wonderful is the way he helps even more when they’re causing trouble.
“of course there must be lots of Magic in the world”
Did I say earlier it was the best crossover ever? This one is only slightly behind it because it’s so short, but even this (far too short) combination of Harry Potter and The Secret Garden makes me so happy I can’t believe it.
"They'll do that, this time o' year," said Dickon. "For th' right sort o' person. I'd one myself, when I was thy age, but I cared too much for my wild things o' the moor. You and Miss Mary, now-- tha'lt take to it, I reckon. This'ns yours."
Mary lifted the owl wonderingly. "It's carrying letters!" She handed Colin his and opened hers, labelled in green script:
Now I really, really, really want to read about Mary and Colin (and Dickon, I assume?) at Hogwarts. Oh, I can’t believe this desire.
Thank you so much for sharing all your writing; I really enjoyed what I’ve read, and I hope to have the chance to read even more in the future.
This was a really great idea; I had a lot of fun reading the work of someone I'd never even heard of, much less read before. I think I need to spend some more time reading and feedback all sorts of people (when, I don't know, I really need a way to stop time so I can do this, work, write, and still sleep sometime--that or a body which doesn't need sleep. That's my ideal).