Apr. 23rd, 2011 10:31 am
jade_sabre: (hav: st. francis has birds on the brain)
I think I begin to understand why poets write love poems and lovers write letters and how they seem to contain such ridiculous effusions because in reality they are honest effusions and love is silly but true.

that is not why I am making this post.

I am making this post because this morning I went to morning prayer at church, and the priest read the homily from today's Office of Readings, and I wanted to post it here for people to see. If Holy Thursday is Christ in the Garden and Good Friday is Christ on the Cross, then Holy Saturday is Christ in the tomb, and that always struck me as a sad empty thing--the Lord is no longer on earth but nor is he in heaven; he descended to the dead.

And then he read this homily to us, and I realized that even in our earthly emptiness, for one day there is joy in hell:

From an ancient homily on Holy Saturday
The Lord descends into hell

Something strange is happening here. )
jade_sabre: (sleeping beauty:  descending the stairs)
Okay y'all for those of you who are interested I swear I am working on a post about last week. Really. It's coming. I just--have to work out how to word things. And try to determine how much kissing to talk about. (I love kissing. It is AWESOME. And now I miss it muchly.) (Here: tell me what y'all want to hear about, that will help.)

In the meantime, two things! One is a meme from [livejournal.com profile] redbrunja from a couple weeks back, in which I am supposed to post about five things and if you comment with a bang bang or something I'll ask you about five things and anyway, her five things for me were

right here! )

The second thing: I remember this song, how many years after I first saw it? And I found it on Youtube today and felt a desire to share it with everyone:

I always saw myself as Francine )
jade_sabre: (hercules:  meg swoons)
again, you can find it in its entirety at ff.net.

part two )
jade_sabre: (hercules:  meg swoons)
So I am posting this here because, well, I'm fond of it, and you know one day years down the line I'll be being interviewed about the Ariadne novel and I can say, well, you know, I sort of played around with the ideas in the novel in an immature form when I was much younger and writing a fanfic from a fanartist's idea and the interviewer will be confused and I will just keep chatting away merrily like nothing's wrong.

If the font here is too small, you can always hit ctrl and +/= at the same time and that will make the font bigger. You can also read it over at my fanfiction.net page, where there's a handy button for you to change font sizes.

And as always, reviews are welcome.

Title: From Order, Chaos

Author: Jade Sabre

Summary: When Hades finally frees himself from the river of death, he discovers an unexpected visitor in his abode with revenge on her mind and sorrow in her heart. A Meg/Hades fic, of a sort.

Notes: So I read the summary of the fanart "Megara: She Needs a Gyro" by steevinlove over at DeviantArt, and decided to fic it. Or perhaps its prequel.

That I have furthered bastardized the already bastard mythology of the film, I freely admit; I have taken the pieces I needed, acknowledged that this is an AU of Disney's AU, and put things together as I thought they might fit. My apologies to any and all fans of Greek mythology and history in general; I include myself in this apology. I also apologize to Rick Riordan, because I borrowed one of his ideas, and his meticulously researched and perfectly presented works shouldn't wallow in the mud I've made of the primordial waters.

I also shouldn't be allowed to write author's notes again, ever.

Dedication: To my dear Ariel, who showed me the picture in the first place, who not only indulges but encourages my love of all things Disney, and who is pretty much one of the strongest, sweetest people I've ever met, even when she's being sassy. Merry Christmas, dear. 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the specific iteration of the Herculean myth from which I borrowed the characters you find in this fic.

from order, chaos )

//part two//
jade_sabre: (tristan+isolde:  tristan what the hell)
The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman
A baby arrives at a graveyard. Mrs. Owens, one of the graveyard's inhabitants, sees the ghost of the baby's mother, and promises to take care of the dead woman's son. He is assigned to the guardianship of a graveyard denizen with the ability to step into the outside world, and spends his days learning from ghosts and generally growing into a sharp and probably very attractive young man, while also wondering, in the back of his mind, who killed his parents.

All of this is presented in a very matter-of-fact way, as British authors are wont to present things, but as it is Neil Gaiman it is also beautiful. It's last year's Newberry winner, and I do believe it perfectly fits the bill for what a Newberry should be: a coming-of-age tale for children which yet has layers upon layers meant to be read and reread at all stages in life. Also it is creepy and involves lots of death without being ridiculously depressing about it--most of the main characters are dead. That's life.

It's been probably about a month since I finished it, so I'm a little rusty on how to talk about it--and having another book on the brain that I want to talk about isn't helping. So let's see, what are my criteria for judging a book that I made up last time? Plot: It's really a series of connected short stories with an overarching plot that I found a bit unsatisfying--more on that in the spoilers section--but the general Bod-grows-up was just so beautiful. And there's suspense and mystery and fun too. Characters: Very quietly drawn, and I really really liked Bod and how he turned out, and Liza is fantastic. Setting: GENIUS. GAH. GENIUS. SO GOOD. SO GOOD. Sentences: It's Neil Gaiman. He presents the reader with information and trusts the reader to do their job with it; he's subtle, and fun, and quietly wise, and also I love hearing him say the word "book," which has nothing to do with his sentences but sort of does because you have to have an appreciation for the way words sound in order to write well.


spoilers/fangirly reactions/criticisms )

BUT REALLY, I LOVED THIS BOOK. I need to purchase it. It would be good to have around.

All's Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque
Paul and some of his classmates are in the German army towards the end of World War I. They have PTSD and severe detachment issues, although this was before people knew how to diagnose such things, let alone help people heal from them. There are lots of bombs and viscera and bullets and bayonets and some French girls and lice and war sucks and I hate it.

So this book is fabulous but I don't understand why they're giving it to the sophomores to read because they're right smack dab in the middle of the infallibility phase of adolescence, without the catch of being close in age to the protagonist of the story, like seniors or second-semester juniors. Also I am mildly concerned about whether or not the students will get adequate background before jumping into this novel. Like, it is not enough to say Germany lost WWI (although I certainly hope that gets said). I think you need to at least provide a general sense of the devastation of WWI...which, yes, is the point of the novel, but idk.

Anyway this novel was very depressing. I threw it on the floor when I reached the last page. There are two types of novels that get this treatment: Twilight/Eragon, and Of Mice and Men. AQonWF belongs to the latter category of "Classic Novels of Literature Meant to Make You Feel Bad About Everything," although it gets many more points for being about WWI and being from the POV of the loser and for being about real war in real places (not that Of Mice and Men is about fake things, but seriously, that novel exists to make you feel bad).

So I didn't...like it? I mean I deeply respected it and appreciated it and think people ought to read it, but jeeze, you guys. Although a tiny book it is not to be taken lightly. (Also, it satisfied my Gross and Violent quota for the year. Rather like dystopian works, I can do one, maybe two a year, but I have to space them out a lot because I do not enjoy them much at all, and I try to read only the good ones so at least there's something salvageable when I'm done.)

"Okay," I said, when I finished it, "I could go without reading about intestines and stomachs outside of people's bodies and blood for like the next year now."

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel

So this book tells the story of Piscine Molitor Patel, who goes by Pi, who is living life grandly with his family in India while his father is a zookeeper until such time they make the decision to move to Canada, and the boat they're on sinks, and Pi get stuck on a lifeboat with a tiger. And then he has to survive.

Lots of animals die in the reading of this story, and their guts are discussed at great length. What did I do wrong in a past life.

Seriously, though, um, I don't really have a review of it that doesn't involve spoilers, and I'm kind of hoping to find someone to discuss me out of my rage, and to convince me that there was a point to reading this book and that it is not simply yet another example of "Classic Novels of Literature Meant to Make You Feel Bad About Everything." So onto the spoilers!




but most importantly
today I stopped by the library and picked up the two books that were on hold for me. Granted, they're going to the bottom of my TBR pile, but they are
The Blood Confession by Alisa Libby
The Bone Key by Sarah Monette



*does a dance*
jade_sabre: (batb:  great wide somewhere)
So, normally I don't post my own fic here, but this one, well, I want to post it wherever I can, and that amounts to about four places, one of them being here, so, well, there you go. This wiki entry and this one sort of give you an idea of the general things surrounding this specific story; it helps to know that the character you play in Dragon Age is a Grey Warden, which is an order of people who drink darkspawn blood in order to be able to kill archdemons, taking the taint and mastering it, at least for a little while.

Anyway, here is my fic; hope you enjoy it.

Title: Legend
Author: Jade Sabre
Summary: The Warden and Andraste; a study in light.
Notes: This was originally going to be my entry for the "legendary" lightning round at the [livejournal.com profile] dao_challenge LJ community, but I quickly realized I wouldn't be able to do it in fifteen minutes. Try two hours and fifteen minutes. Anyway, I have to acknowledge a few influences on this piece:

1) The fic "But A Sword," by tjadis, which has been lingering in the back of my head in its own beautiful way,
2) The novel The King's Rose, by Alisa Libby, which is an absolutely fantastic character study of Catherine Howard, fifth wife of Henry VIII, and
3) The fic "Deathsong," by LoquaciousQuark, which is an excellent Bleach fic (I'm not in the fandom, but there's nothing a little wiki-ing can't help you with), as well as some of her other fic, as well as her general outlook on life.

This was written to "Farewell," the final track on the Pocahontas soundtrack, on repeat, and reads pretty well with it.

The quotes from the Chant I obtained from the Dragon Age wiki.

A little piece of my heart went into this; I'd love to read your reviews.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to the brilliant people at Bioware.

Leliana calls the Warden a sunflower, and it is not far from the truth. )

jade_sabre: (stars)
Faith is an intensely private thing, not isolated and yet seemingly utterly between you and God, which is what makes a community of believers so wonderfully awesome. There are few feelings to describe that emotion felt when one lifts up their eyes and realizes that all of those surrounding them are present because they believe. Some of them may be lukewarm, some lost and fading, some floundering, some drowning in tears of joy--but all have made the choice to be there. All have considered going and not going, and all have come to the water.

Because we do not speak to God in private, nor pray in isolation. Our prayers are joined with all, heard individually yet traveling together to God our Almighty Father. We do not know the prayers of others, yet we know they pray; we join with them to seek comfort in one another's company, to live out His promise of presence even if we cannot grasp it ourselves. We ask prayers of each other, when we are praying with all our soul; we ask others pray for us, when we can no longer pray ourselves.

We gather together amidst darkness, amidst smoke-filled light, with silence, with songs (singers and tone-deaf alike), with prescribed prayer, with offerings from the secret places in our hearts, as children, parents, friends, neighbors, lonely and loved, for we are together, and together, we are one in the image of the eternal One who made us, seeking his blessing, singing his praise.
jade_sabre: (Default)
i. lift your voice and sing )

ii. the Lord is risen this mornin' )

iii. roll away the stone )

iv. Jesus Christ is risen today )

v. hallelujah )


jade_sabre: (Default)

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