Oh wow. You know how you start reading something, and you're into it, but then you keep reading it and you realize, more fully and wholly, exactly how into it you really are? That was me with this. As much as I love outsider POV, as a general premise I feel like we've written so much of a fandom that it ain't no thang, in itself. And new fics for said genre have to press harder or dance to a little disorder in order to keep from doing the things that have been done before. I feel like this is so much itself, and so insistent in the unique story it needs told, that it feels like nothing of that genre has ever been written before--a reinvention, if you will.
The tone to this is gorgeous, and the agency your narrator describes to her creations (and its transbordered origins, with bones from so many places), as well as to spirits and bodies others might need to ressurrect is so refreshing, and true, and important.
I love that she loves Nicki Minaj--and even more so, that it's a non-sequitur, an aside. I love the wolf and its pieces, its labor to be or seem so many pieces; I love her thoughts on its potential future transformations, its choices. I love this: Outsiders would tell you, sometimes tell her at toll booths or rest stops, that she is fat, and hairy, and old. Some people call her things for that. She has many names. And I love that she has many names, and that those given her are included and owned, even in their untruth/limitedness. I love this line, too, which says so much about her as well as the approachee: She can tell he knows better than to approach a woman alone on a deserted road, but he does anyway.
This is the kind of fic that you want to read a few times, you want to linger in the language, experience all the bright, arresting phrasings that you'll miss if you skim, the way you are wont on a screen. It's a fic you want to remember--which is good, because you won't have a choice. It makes itself memorable. <333
And I love your author's note, and am really curious about Women Who Run With Wolves now.
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The tone to this is gorgeous, and the agency your narrator describes to her creations (and its transbordered origins, with bones from so many places), as well as to spirits and bodies others might need to ressurrect is so refreshing, and true, and important.
I love that she loves Nicki Minaj--and even more so, that it's a non-sequitur, an aside. I love the wolf and its pieces, its labor to be or seem so many pieces; I love her thoughts on its potential future transformations, its choices. I love this: Outsiders would tell you, sometimes tell her at toll booths or rest stops, that she is fat, and hairy, and old. Some people call her things for that. She has many names. And I love that she has many names, and that those given her are included and owned, even in their untruth/limitedness. I love this line, too, which says so much about her as well as the approachee: She can tell he knows better than to approach a woman alone on a deserted road, but he does anyway.
This is the kind of fic that you want to read a few times, you want to linger in the language, experience all the bright, arresting phrasings that you'll miss if you skim, the way you are wont on a screen. It's a fic you want to remember--which is good, because you won't have a choice. It makes itself memorable. <333
And I love your author's note, and am really curious about Women Who Run With Wolves now.
Thank you for this piece, bb. <333