:: bad news, and very bad news ::

        my grandparents are arriving today, staying for the rest of the week, and my entire family will be leaving here on tuesday for a trip down south-ward. so the bad news is that I'll be leaving for a week.
        but the really bad news?! 

        I'll be back.

:: word-of-the-intermittent-time-period ::

{ you will use this word all the time. way all the time. it's crazy how, when you apply yourself, occasions to use this word become proliferate. now, granted, it may be a stretch ("I'm so glad you finally broke up with that glozing knave"), but if you are dedicated, you will find a way. } 

gloze: to explain away 
     archaic (whatever): deceit; gloss over; cover up
     verb, from old french gloser

pronunciation: (gloe-z)

"Long with his dagger's hilt he played, then raised his haughty brow, and said: 'Short be my speech: -- nor time affords, nor my plain temper, glozing words.' "*
     sir walter scott

*it is an adjective in this case. but you get the point, right? 

:: the end of the odyssey - tennyson's ulysses ::

hey, guys.
I just read don juan, childe harolde's pilgrimage, and beppo (byron) (which I already mentioned) (except that I hadn't quite finished dj then). I will probably be saying something soon about what I thought of them (AWESOME except a little edgy; beautiful prose but the story wasn't; hilarious but poking fun at virtue). in any discussion of them, I'll probably say exactly what was in the parentheses, only wordier. keep an eye out. ha ha. 
       but today I bring you my thoughts on the odyssey, homer's odysseus, and tennyson's version. ...I have a really bad habit of writing in a condescending voice (and "condescending" means talking down to you.
       no, can't take credit for that one. I saw it on pinterest). if you think I'm being condescending 1. I'm not doing it on purpose, I just have a snotty voice 2. talk back to my opinions at the screen. tell me about your alternate opinion (trust me, it feels so much better. although I get funny looks when I'm yelling at a screen...). 
       anyway. homer's odyssey! aka death! gore! and rich young promiscuous drunks! ...um, yeah.
       
       homer's odyssey has garnered a reputation for having a happy ending. odysseus returns and kills the bad guys; he comes into his own, loved and welcomed by his son and wife and household. everybody cheers, and we all live happily ever after. it wasn't until I read the odyssey for reals in my senior year writing class that I even knew: it doesn't really end. 
       sure, the book-itself's end is happy -- odysseus is home and the gods are appeased and everyone is rejoicing. the part I hadn't known before (and this is right after O and P have just been reunited) was this:

                                               "Then said Odysseus:
  'My dear, we have not won through to the end.
  One trial -- I do not know how long -- is left for me 
  to see fulfilled. Teiresias' ghost forewarned me
  the night I stood upon the shore of Death, asking
  about my friends' homecoming and my own. ...
  
  Teiresias told me I must take an oar 
  and trudge the mainland, going from town to town,
  until I discover men who have never known
  the salt blue sea, nor flavor of salt meat --
  strangers to painted prows, to watercraft
  and oars like wings, dipping across the water.
  The moment of revelation he foretold
  was this, for you may share the prophecy:
  some traveller falling in with me will say:
  "A winnowing fan, that on your shoulder, sir?"
  There I must plant my oar, on the very spot,
  with burnt offerings to Poseidon of the Waters:
  a ram, a bull, a great buck boar. Thereafter
  when I come home again, I am to slay
  full hekatombs to the gods who own broad heaven,
  one by one. 
                       Then death will drift upon me
  from seaward, mild as air, mild as your hand,
  in my well-tended weariness of age,
  contented folk around me on our island.
  He said all this must come.'" 
{book 23, lines 279-283; 298-319} 

odysseus was going to have to leave again, go on another journey, before he could come home for good and die in peace. 
       I know. I was kind of burnt, too. (lame way to treat this poor dude. lame lame lame.) it made me appreciate tennyson's poem 'ulysses' much more, though -- and that's really where I was going with this. 'ulysses' (the roman name) is about odysseus (the greek name) as he decides to go on that last journey. the time has come.  

       at the first, the poem portrays odysseus as a proud man -- "Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole / Unequal laws unto a savage race, / That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me." his wife is old; his race is savage, while he, both literally and figuratively, sits above them; they are concerned with the basic necessities of life, while he sees beyond and yearns for something higher. odysseus regrets that his people don't recognize him as someone great ("and know not me"). he scorns their ignorance. 
       this desire for recognition continues as he turns to the reader in a soliloquy, revisiting the scenes of his triumph, reliving the glorious days of his strength. here the poem takes a turn, and he is no more the powerful but caged king of the poem's beginning. then he seemed contained, restless, like a lion; now he is an old man, nodding over a cup of wine as he says, "when I was your age..." his spirit, though, yearns to finish his days, not in unrecognized decrepit age, but once again as odysseus the fearless, the courageous, the bold.  
       he leaves his kingdom to his son -- it's almost a will, knowing he is not coming back to rule again -- and seeks the other sailors who are still alive, to see if they want to come on this last voyage. odysseus wants to distinguish himself by "Some work of noble note" that "may yet be done"; and so he leaves ithaka "to sail beyond the sunset...till I die." although he has been made "weak by time and fate," he has rediscovered himself: the strong, proud warrior -- of another age, perhaps, but still the odysseus of adventures. he sails away, carried on by his strength of will; unwilling to die in obscurity, he finally proves himself to himself by facing death; learning "to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

       long explanation, I know, but the ulysses here matches homer's odysseus. homer's man is also proud and rather vain of his part in the trojan war (though understandably so). he wants recognition -- a difficulty when he returns as a beggar and has to resist his desire to plunge in and set everything right. he does get restless: he even tires of kalypso, and yearns for home. (as a side note, I think this is an aspect of his restlessness: he loves the excitement of adventure, and while he wants the comfort of home, the draw for him is the struggle along the way. if his home had been nonexistent, he would have wanted to leave kalypso anyway, I think. home wasn't what he exclusively yearned for.) 
       
       homer doesn't address what happened after odysseus's return. it’s clear that O will not be allowed to stay home forever (book 23, lines 280-281, as quoted above). still, we don't know when this “trial” would occur. (that's part of the intrigue of tennyson's poem for me.)       
       as far as O's personality goes, though, tennyson's portrayal seems pretty consistent: a proud adventurer, restless when inactive -- who now, after years of stagnation, wants one last adventure before death. 

:: ahoy, mateys! ::

aye, me hearties, it be that time o' year again: talk like a pirate day! 

the official site be here, if ye scurvy dogs have courage enough to click. plenty o' fun 'n' grog games to be had; but, should ye bilge-rats be technologically impaired, this-'ere video be just for you. all ye do is click that there link, yarrr!

and if ye land-lubbers be hopeless, here be a translator and I wish ye luck -- or off the end o' the plank, sea-scum! belay the excuses and larn it!

off with ye now: weigh anchor and step smartly. ARRRRR!   

:: what not to say ::

but what if she says no?!
good question. as the boy scouts say, it’s best to be ready for whatever life throws at you – or something like that – and who knows if Life will be in the form of Your Sweet, and there’s an airborne antique vase aimed at your noggin? 
several things should be kept in mind, if such unpleasant things were to occur. (note: passive voice is excellent for keeping blame generalized.)

~ as already noted, Do Not Treat Her Refusal As A Joke. bow in quiet politeness, appropriate solemnity, and manful dignity. “this word from her will silence you on the subject forever”; then exit. do not immediately propose to her best friend.
~ vow to be there for her (i.e. the tiernan o’malley) but do not kiss her farewell, even if she is in a field of violets or has just completed a tennis match (i.e. the george emerson). 
~ promise that even in light of this event, of her friends “she can count you as one of her best”.  
~ to “procure a lock of her hair” is allowed, if it is to be kept around your neck for burial, and if your burial is within the week.
~ For the sake of the Loved One, conquer these Feelings of Bitterness and become Magnanimous.

in sum: treat her with respect and deference; be appropriately heart-melting but not overly dramatic; don’t go for revenge because of your shattered heart. jerky heart never won fair lady. and, whatever you do, don’t explode the opera house.

:: the perfect proposal ::

are you tired of “the days dividing lover and lover”? does everyone say “go out and ask her,” but the very thought makes you tremble? have no fear. today I offer 5 literary proposals for your memorization, emulation, or inspiration. 

1. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

2. “Start off with the glimmering landscape.” 
“Stars God’s daisy chain.”
“Twilight makes you feel sad.”
“Because mine lonely life.”
“Describe life.”
“Talk about the day I met her.”
“Add fairy princess gag. Say there’s something you want to say to her. Heave a couple of sighs. Grab her hand. And give her the works. Right.” 

3. “Oh, I don’t care about Jack. I don’t care about anybody in the whole world but you. I love you, [insert name here]. You will marry me, won’t you?”

4. “I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. …I have loved none but you. …For you alone I think and plan. …A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father’s house this evening or never.”

5. “My dear, dear girl; my gallant, generous, disinterested, courageous, noble girl!…My love, my life! You are mine?”

but. (everyone knows I always have a big ‘but’.) one does like to be original, to paraphrase rodney burke, in a speech paraphrasing mr. knightley, who was incidentally proposing. (ah, these coincidences.) back to originality – which your “dearest, loveliest” would probably appreciate. here are some general guidelines for you more adventurous.

DO: compliment her “fine eyes”. 
DO NOT: attribute her attitude to her wish of increasing your love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.
WHY: well, that should be obvious.

DO: it in the rose garden. it is well established that there is no sounder move than to steer the adored object into rose gardens in the gloaming.
DO NOT: do the leave-notes-on-benches-and-speak-in-a-voluble-flow-as-you-trespass-in-her-garden thing. 
        WHY: this only worked because his name began with marius and ended with pontmercy. never otherwise in the history of proposals have I known it to succeed. 

DO: “Rise, Mr. Worthing, from this semi-recumbent posture. It is most indecorous.”
DO NOT: fall on the ground to hug her knees and beseech her favor. 
WHY: because this only happens in russian novels, that’s why.

and stay tuned: I’ll be back soon with "what not to say": tried-and-false methods to avoid. at all cost. 

:: seize the swinburne ::

I've been reading poetry lately. mainly byron (childe harold's pilgrimage, beppo, and don juan, to name a few), but also clare and keats and... well, I have this fabulous swinburne quote to share with you all BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. 

it's symbolizes to me the growing-up years, when everything is beautiful and magical, and growing up is such a grand adventure. ...I haven't left this stage yet, so please don't burst my bubble.

it's a beautiful, breezy fall day, and the sky is that serious blue you only see in september. this is the perfect poem for me right now. 
- - -

And a day was arisen indeed for us. Years and the changes of years 
Clothed round with their joys and their sorrows, and dead as their hopes and their fears, 
Lie noteless and nameless, unlit by remembrance or record of days
Worth wonder or memory, or cursing or blessing, or passion or praise, 
Between us who live and forget not, but yearn with delight in it yet, 
And the day we forget not, and never may live and may think to forget. 
And the years that were kindlier and fairer, and kindled with pleasures as keen, 
Have eclipsed not with lights or with shadows the light on the face of it seen. 
For softly and surely, as nearer the boat that we gazed from drew, 
The face of the precipice opened and bade us as birds pass through, 
And the bark shot sheer to the sea through the strait of the sharp steep cleft, 
The portal that opens with imminent rampires to right and to left, 
Sublime as the sky they darken and strange as a spell-struck dream, 
On the world unconfined of the mountains, the reign of the sea supreme, 
The kingdom of westward waters, wherein when we swam we knew 
The waves that we clove were boundless, the wind on our brows that blew 
Had swept no land and no lake, and had warred not on tower or on tree, 
But came on us hard out of heaven, and alive with the soul of the sea.

(from Loch Torridon)

- - -

I'm going to head outside now (maybe I'll run to the top of a hill and spin around with this ecstatic smile on my face and my arms out, while bursting into spontaneous rodgers and hammerstein song) to carpe this diem. :) 

:: she walks in beauty, part 2 ::

it’s funny -- whenever I read “she walks in”, I picture a dark-haired girl in stark sunlight, and then I get to “beauty” and it always catches me slightly off-guard.

byron continues in his comparisons of dark and light in the second stanza (and I believe I already pulled out examples of this in my previous post). “one shade the more, one ray the less”…she’s perfect: any darker and she wouldn’t have the same bright grace or beauty.
once again, he emphasizes dark vs. light in his description of her “raven tress[es]” that “softly lighten” over her face. what an impressive contrast!

        because we aren't told her name, to me, at least, it makes her a little more perfect. I can imagine her as he describes her, without knowing any of her story and without having her image ruined by facts. this anonymity makes gives her an almost phantom-like, elusive quality; byron can praise her to the skies without needing to be completely factually correct. he can create a perfect subject for this poem, as if she didn't previously exist... and for all we know, she didn't.

as he ends stanza two, he moves on. the focus seems to shift here to praising her character, her self, rather than her physical features. her face is beautiful, but it only serves to show her character: the innocence and sweetness of her personality. her face is “where thoughts serenely sweet express, how pure, how dear their dwelling-place”; who she is shines through and makes her that much more attractive.

  lord byron continues by doing an amazing parallel sort of description, illustrating her character by describing her physical looks. he sets it up at “where thoughts serenely sweet express…”, and the rest of the poem speaks of her captivating spirit by describing her captivating face. her cheek and brow are “eloquent” in their display of her character. they “tell of days in goodness spent” as well as being attractive in and of themselves.

        perhaps, though, that’s byron’s point. are her features so attractive ‘in and of themselves’? or is her outward beauty the tangible expression of her beautiful personality? she is innocent in love -- implying heart as well as physical purity -- and she is winning in her behavior; despite her beauty, she doesn’t repulse people, she attracts them. this is emphasized later on, too, in that she is specifically “at peace with all below” -- she doesn’t have any petty rivalries or flirtations with those around her. 

  I wonder, here, if the “but” in “but tell of days in goodness spent” is meant to imply she is a happy, healthy girl whose attractiveness is because of her healthiness. as opposed to paint (to put it rather euphemistically. though that is completely conjecture on my part).
byron certainly shows that her attraction for him is her inward beauty, expressed in her face. “the smiles that win” have won him, at least; her face tells of “days in goodness spent”; and there is a certain wistful quality of the last line: “a heart whose love is innocent”. byron was by no means the romantic ideal of classic literature. compare him to mr. darcy. ( -- or don’t.) he epitomizes the tall, dark, and handsome (but also conflicted, moody, and rather dangerous) man of … well, gone with the wind, almost. although rhett never really endeared me to him the way byron has a knack of doing. (gwtw review later, however. my goodness, I’m committing myself to quite a lot.)

this poem captures a mellow, rather wistful feeling. byron reveres this woman for her goodness, and all the more as he recognizes how far above him she is; her goodness requires respect, but she is gracious... and makes everything around her beautiful. 

:: she walks in beauty ::

she walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies;

and all that’s best of dark and bright

meet in her aspect and her eyes:

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies.

one shade the more, one ray the less

had half impaired that nameless grace

which waves in every raven tress,

or softly lightens o’er her face;

where thoughts serenely sweet express,

how pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

and on that cheek, and o’er that brow, 

so soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

the smiles that win, the tints that glow,

but tell of days in goodness spent,

a mind at peace with all below, 

a heart whose love is innocent!

well...

I...

hm...

         … all this space is me trying to think how to express my love for this poem in a delicate way, without thoroughly destroying its effect. (probably the only way for me to do that is to have you go back and read it every time there’s a paragraph break.) to cover this whole wonderful piece in a single post would be a superhuman achievement. I have too many thoughts on the first stanza to do that, so instead you’ll be getting approximately three posts (though I might combine II and III. but we’ll see). 

        I. love. this. poem.
without getting too technical -- the worst thing you can do when discussing poetry -- lord byron’s meter and rhyme scheme are nothing less than perfectly, gloriously wrought. she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies… but good poetry wouldn’t be good poetry without it (walt whitman fans, I’ll get to you eventually) and I couldn’t bring myself to overlook it. 
without horrendously stressing each beat (example: “she WALKS in BEAUty LIKE the NIGHT” -- okay, okay, that hurts!! you get the picture, anyway) lightly stress every other syllable in your mind. then read it softly out loud without meter at all. if it helps, copy + paste the poem into a blank document and make it regular sentences. now read it.

*pauses in anticipation of your rapturous silence after completion* 

he writes in beauty, doesn’t he?

        it really doesn’t have to do with byron’s skill at using the physical words, but with his amazing descriptions -- and think about what pictures come to mind while reading … just the first stanza.

        consider his use of dark and light. her beauty is “like the night”, yet not dark (“of…starry skies”). the best “of dark and bright” are in her face -- which is further compared to moonlight, the “tender light” that only shines in darkness. her perfection wouldn’t be perfection with any darker shade or any “ray the less”. her hair is dark (“every raven tress”), but her face is bright, not only in comparison to her hair, but in expressing her innocence and purity. that innocence and purity are a light all on their own: they shine through in her face -- “the smiles that win, the tints that glow” -- and show that she, in contrast to…  something…, has a heart that loves free from any taint of uncleanness. 

        byron praises her superficial beauty; at a deeper level, he is contrasting her bright, shining purity to the sordid world he is so accustomed to. the day is described as garishly, startlingly bright, as if byron recognizes his unworthiness in the face of perfection -- the open brightness of day. but she isn’t the harsh exposer of his blots; she is to him a ‘light shining out of darkness’ (a william cowper poem, if you’re interested). she is that “tender light which Heaven to gaudy day denies”: the moonlight which sheds a luster much softer than that of the sun. this description illuminates her character even more, I think (no pun intended). it makes her gentler, shining compared to her dark surroundings; all the more beautiful for that contrast, but without the harshness of stark sunshine. 

in his sonnet ‘with how sad steps, o moon’, sir philip sydney speaks to the moon as if it commiserates with his lovesick state; here, byron reverences ‘her’ (some say a cousin, by marriage, whom he met at a ball) as a more distant moon – something to adore, but something so far from his reach he can only love her for the light she sheds around him.

:: how I win arguments, every time ::

"my dear, if you must have the last word, don't let it be a truism."

- wives & daughters
(elizabeth gaskell)

:: haste to the wedding ::

mawwiage. that bwessed awwangement, that dweam wifin a dweam. 

yeah, I finished the first set of wedding invites. how did you know?

    

I said you'd be able to read the invitation in the final-product picture.

I lied.

here it is on its own, though, if you'd like to take a stab at it. *pictures hamlet with cardstock impaled on his sword*

you're all, "skip to the end!!"

george; lucy. I now pwonownce you -- man and waf.

:: brisingr - a rant ::

several years ago, I read the first two books in christopher paolini's inheritance ... series (who knows how long this will actually go on). my immediate reaction was, "wow, how bad is this going to get?!" and eventually "ughhhhhhhh, I just want to be done!" but being told by several friends that, actually, #3 was an improvement, I thought, seriously, how bad could they have been? I'll check it out, and maybe it will be better than the other two. I can't claim to remember much about the other two -- I am a firm believer in this case of freudian repression; also, I say this with no desire to offend anyone, but merely to make my stance on the subject clear.

brisingr? I loathed it.

okay, "loathe" in all its glory may be a little heavy-handed. I extraordinarily disliked brisingr. why? well...

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

- the terrible, ponderous, annoying, too-many-adjectives writing.
        I mean, see how obnoxious that is? what about this phrase: "[the word hung in the air,] a verbal monolith of ambivalence."
        ...what the heck?
        and how many times did the dude use "ambivalence"!? I want to bang him over the head with a thesaurus.

- the "jokes".
       I have plenty of experience with this, and you know it. I have great pity for CP, but I'm also really irritated with him for dragging me through "witty" "conversations" between eragon and saphira. in my family, we have a saying: if it isn't funny, it isn't a joke. I examine CP through this lens and find him lacking.
       (we do make an exception for the lydia bennet use. "what's he doing [trying to write something worth reading]?! what a joke!")

- the proliferate battle scenes.
       (they killed me.)
       thank you, O master of the brilliant and original descriptions, for helping me to experience yet another 100,000 pages of intense, heart-wrenching, emotionally complex ...oh wait  battles. includes roran "stronghammer" (Paolini Original, can you tell) rallying everyone 'round the flag to vanquish the foe -- temporarily, of course, because the series ISN'T OVER YET!! -- and guess how he does it? by killing 200 of galbatorix's fighting minions, singlehandedly. *tears at hair*
        yeah, I can't even think of anything sarcastic enough to do it justice.

- magic (?!?!?!?!?)
       I utterly understand and can accept: this book has magic as a major part of the plot, it is generally consistent, and it has limits that make sense within the story. that said. what the heck is the reason for the eternal use of it? I got very tired of the [insert magic here] device. what is this, jack and annie traveling through time in their flying tree house, or something? ...or something, for sure.

- I loved how eragon matures into a wise, unselfish, thoughtful young man due to his varied experience and the sad necessity of acting like an adult. except I'm just kidding because the only change I read about was a change of shirt around, like, page 400. 
       over the series eragon goes from immature, inexperienced farm boy to immature, inexperienced magic ...elfperson and "Dragon Rider" (because creative titles are obviously christopher paolini's strong point). but that's not development, and what is supposed to count as "development" is choppy, because CP likes to tell us, flat out, what changed. WHY?! let us see eragon maturing. like, see him get to the point where he's able to handle any responsibility or difficulty without, like, blowing up. which never, like, actually happens. even blatantly. CP has obviously immersed himself in fantasy, but apparently he hasn't even read strunk & white. I'd gladly send him one of my own ...three... copies, if I thought he'd read it and apply it. hahahahahahaha.
        I'm an optimist. maybe CP sticks a sentence in book 4 somewhere saying that "after a lot of hard work, eragon didn't get frustrated with other, ordinary people's stupidity" or something. but why do I doubt it? (let me count the ways.) in brisingr, he hasn't even learned that continuing to obsess over your elvish choochie-face when she's made it clear over the LAST 700 pages of book that she's not interested ...just isn't cute anymore. (at least we just didn't have to read about his morning shaving routine in this one. thank heaven for small favors.)

- I only read the stinking book because of murtagh, to be honest.
        no, seriously, I almost thought about liking him once. he was conflicted -- girls flip for conflicted guys -- and I was like, oh cool, here's somebody a little less predictable.
        *enormous sigh*
        unpredictable, my foot. it's obvious from, dare I say, every interaction between the two dudes-whose-relationship-is-forever-changing, that murtagh the good-at-heart will eventually break free from galbatorix's spell because, oh horrors, we couldn't have any important character be lost to us forever, could we????? *tears hair in frustration* oh the humanity!!!
        - a short sidetrack on death: I found myself smh over the cripple-who-is-whole and, in the synopsis of #4, islanzadi. for all the battles, CP has precious few people die, and it seems like the mark of a weak author when he can't use death as a compelling plot device. (which reminds me. the lady who hates roran. she shows up once in brisingr. ONCE, for crying out loud! wouldn't she be a little more active in her hate?? I was all, kill them! kill them all, mwahahaha! but no one ever listens to me.)
        having oromis and glaedr die, leaving eragon mentor-less, seemed promising (except for the fact, as other people have also noted, that we weren't there to witness their deaths which is terrible, terrible, terrible execution. ...pun intended). I'm not sure how CP worked that into inheritance, but I originally optimized to myself, "it could force eragon to have to mature and learn that even dragon riders make mistakes and that he needs to be humble enough to learn from other people." why would that happen, though?? because eragon is obviously going to be the same immature, moody teenager when he leaves ala-whatever whom he was when he discovered the funky stone in garrow's backyard. *sighs heavily for so much wasted potential*

- too many incredibly frustrating relationships.
        I've already said what I thought about eragon and arya. (I'll say it again. noNOnoNOnoNO.)
        roran + katrina = SO fake! I got really eye-roll-y at the mushy parts.
        I liked that eragon and murtagh were full brothers. it gave eragon something to work through and overcome within himself. he wasn't swayed to evil even before he knew who his father was, so I was like, that's a neat twist, there's so much room for character development here, and there's hope for murtagh, too. BUT OF COURSE CP has to SURPRIIIIIISE! make eragon's father someone you're supposed to like and look up to and appreciate. arrrrgggghhhh. *rips out hair in clumps*
         it's like CP couldn't handle the idea that eragon had "bad blood" in him or something. what, he can't be a good guy unless his father was a good guy? no, I know that's technically not what he was saying, but that's the way it looks, and besides, it's just irritating. I hated that then there had to be all this justification for eragon even being brom's child; "oh they considered themselves married" and "selena wasn't more like galbatorix's consort than wife".... that just bothered me. be okay with it, or don't, but don't do this weird let's-make-everyone-in-the-right-except-for-the-mean-dictator stuff. it didn't hang together, it didn't make a lot of sense, and my head hurt by the end from all the attempts to suspend disbelief.

- at least aragorn didn't have a dragon.
        others have commented on this, and I'm sure no one wants to hear my badly-articulated viewpoint. I still have to say it: what is with all the LOTR stuff?? stuff, as in: characters, names, themes, I-am-j. r. r.-tolkien complex. can't you even come up with YOUR OWN CREATURES??? *pulls hair wildly* slapping a new name (hypothetically, urgals) on some pre-existent, imaginary creatures (hypothetically, orcs) is known as plagiarism and is frowned upon in most societies  doesn't make them your own! you're right: tolkien didn't let the elves shape-shift (although frank herbert had shape-shifters, you plagiarist), and he didn't have werecats (not like werecats are some sort of brilliantly creative invention of yours, though). I am not a huge fantasy fan, but I can recognize when some people are. and isn't it embarrassing that a german lady could write a more original magic+fantasy story? even dustfinger beats eragon to pieces. seriously.

- I had to wade through SEVEN. HUNDRED. AND FORTY. NINE. PAGES of this.
        I really don't think I need to expand on this one. pun.

- christopher paolini makes all homeschoolers look bad, and I resent this imputation on my character.
        now that I'm bald from all the hair-ripping, I can only swear at him. YOU HIPPOPOTAMIC LAND MASS! I hope you go back to being homeless, friendless, brainless, and unemployed, in greenland!!! warthog-faced buffoon!! hopeless souse!! silly git!!
        well, that felt awesome.

- what I liked about the book:    
        - saphira actually had a comment that made me laugh. of course, I can't remember what it was, and whoops, the book's been returned to the library, but there was that one comment. woohoo, let's all make sure to mark our calendars.
        - I liked that this book reminded me of all the real literature that exists. no, it's not all like this, oh joy oh delight oh glory!! I can always bury my frustration in dune and live happily ever -- well, not if I'm reading dune, I can't. I think this calls for a wodehouse fix. or maybe a cup of tea.

**NO MORE SPOILERS**

I am done with the inheritance cycle. I know how it ends, thanks to wikipedia, because I'm not up to another 700+ page, personal experience of this. I mean, this - this is exhausting. we are never getting back together.

like, ever.