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Sunday I finished the audiobook of The Worm Ouroboros. (Sigh.) I really must get a better microphone and do my own bit for Librivox!
Random thought: the Worm is supposed, within its rather creaky frame-story, to take place upon Mercury - a conceit the author does nothing with, and swiftly appears to forget. But I happen to be reading the Divine Comedy at the moment, and today I got to the Heaven of Mercury - in which dwell those good souls who nonetheless often put worldly honour above God. Considering the whole mood and ethos of the Worm, and that the erudite Eddison could not possibly have been unfamiliar with Dante, I am suspecting this may not be by accident.
...The Duchess Sriva is making suggestive noises in my ear about the ambiguity of the ending, and what it might look like from the inside, and whether there is any outside and what it really is. She points out that I really ought to get all that heavy triple-velvet prose out of my head before it contaminates Killer-Kate too grievously, and intimates that we could have a very nice time exploring the philosophical and political issues, in wasted and waterish Witchland, in Temenos by the sea.
Sriva is like that. She has also incited Lord Spitfire of Demonland to come knocking on my door, and since Spitfire is the sort of hero whom E R Eddison thought was a complete nutter, this is not a siege to regard lightly. Yet remain I unremoved. Mostly.
Must. Not. Write. Worm. Fanfic. Must. Not...
("Lord, it is a mindworm from Witchland with her train. She demandeth present audience...")
560 words on the actual project, and before that the lyric of the Fairfields Wassail, which does not appear in the main text but which a passing dustless cat required of me before I proceeded further.
Random thought: the Worm is supposed, within its rather creaky frame-story, to take place upon Mercury - a conceit the author does nothing with, and swiftly appears to forget. But I happen to be reading the Divine Comedy at the moment, and today I got to the Heaven of Mercury - in which dwell those good souls who nonetheless often put worldly honour above God. Considering the whole mood and ethos of the Worm, and that the erudite Eddison could not possibly have been unfamiliar with Dante, I am suspecting this may not be by accident.
...The Duchess Sriva is making suggestive noises in my ear about the ambiguity of the ending, and what it might look like from the inside, and whether there is any outside and what it really is. She points out that I really ought to get all that heavy triple-velvet prose out of my head before it contaminates Killer-Kate too grievously, and intimates that we could have a very nice time exploring the philosophical and political issues, in wasted and waterish Witchland, in Temenos by the sea.
Sriva is like that. She has also incited Lord Spitfire of Demonland to come knocking on my door, and since Spitfire is the sort of hero whom E R Eddison thought was a complete nutter, this is not a siege to regard lightly. Yet remain I unremoved. Mostly.
Must. Not. Write. Worm. Fanfic. Must. Not...
("Lord, it is a mindworm from Witchland with her train. She demandeth present audience...")
560 words on the actual project, and before that the lyric of the Fairfields Wassail, which does not appear in the main text but which a passing dustless cat required of me before I proceeded further.
