Fics & book reviews
Some of the things I owe to various people for the 5 things meme -
For monanotlisa, Five times Nadia had less-than-sibling-like thoughts about Syd.
1. When she first meets Sydney.
When Nadia first sees Syd, she is too tired to pay much attention to her erstwhile rescuer. It is only later, with her breath coming in short staccato bursts, gulping air despite her screaming lungs, that she finally looks at the woman slumped beside her. And thinks, pretty, just as she had as a child, peering into the windows of clothes shop.
Later, following stuttered, clumsy introductions, it occurs to her that she wasn’t allowed to touch those pretty things either.
2. When she first meets her father.
She isn’t waiting for Syd to rescue her. She isn’t. She doesn’t believe that she can rescue herself, either, but she knows enough to wait, quiet-like. She doesn’t need to be rescued to put herself out of her father’s reach.
Her father. This was her father? Moreover, this was Arvin Sloane? She was taller than him. Faster and stronger too, maybe. And you don’t need to outsmart someone who needs you alive; you just need to outrun them.
She’s not waiting for Syd to rescue her; she’s not imagining it at all. And, in this dream-she’s-not-having, Syd is very much related to her, of course she is, she isn’t hoping that Sloane made a mistake. That they all made a mistake.
(And if they did, then her family can be perfect and dead again, locked away for safekeeping.)
3. When she kisses Vaughn.
It’s for a mission - of course it is - and she’s immensely uncomfortable. There’s gloss on his lips that doesn’t belong there. It takes her a little while to realise why.
4. When she’s on the tower.
That’s not her sister. It’s not. She understands that the thing in front of her is a threat, and that it will stop her from fulfilling her purpose. Her pulse throbs in her ears, and she can barely hear the faint, unfamiliar sounds of the threat, talking talking talking and taking slow, careful steps forward.
The Passenger has no family.
She knows what she has to do.
5. When she wakes up.
She doesn’t remember where she is for a little bit. People come to see her; her father, Jack Bristow, doctors of various kinds. Eric comes by, and sits by her bedside for a bit. Debriefers come; debriefers go. All those around her are exercising every ounce of influence to keep her from any trouble, “you call me immediately, ok?”
There’s something niggling at the back of her mind, and she’s furious with herself that she can’t bring it to mind immediately. She’s trained for this, why is it not there?
When Sydney walks through the door, glowing and healthy and there, Nadia’s stomach tightens.
Oh, she thinks faintly, the familiar horrifying feeling returning. That’s what it was.
*
For bluerosefairy, Five times Saul Tigh saved Bill Adama's behind, instead of it being the other way around.
1. At a card game.
Bill Adama was a piss-poor player and had no business at the card table, was Saul Tigh’s honest opinion. And if Tigh hadn’t sabotaged his own winnings by helping out, he would have probably lost the shirt on his back.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” They’d retired for drinks and cigars to Adama’s quarters; Tigh’s being far to small to allow even this small luxury.
Adama drew heavily on the cigar, the cherry glowing red. “You know.”
Tigh studied the tumbler in his hand, turning it to catch the light. “No reason,” he said.
2. At the Passing-Out Week Officers’ Festivities .
For a strategist, Adama had a crappy memory. Almost sieve-like. Take away his organiser, and he’d have no clue what he was supposed to be doing.
Saul had been all for stealing said organiser, of course. It was tradition, and Adama was easy-going enough that the ritual pranks were more of an amusement to him than any serious breach of discipline. Saul suspected that this might change as Bill climbed up the chain of command - promotion had a way of leaching the humour from people - but, for the time being, they had more than enough leeway.
He was in charge of stealing and hiding it. Actually, he was in charge of stealing it, and then handing it over to the rest of the squadron for hiding (presumably in several pieces), but Saul decided that this was a stupid plan. So, into his own lock-up the organiser went, and no amount of pleading from Martinez would change his mind. “You idiots would probably lose it, and then where would we be?”
“You’re a frakking slave,” Martinez said, and rolled his eyes. “I bet you read it and all, just to make sure Adama doesn’t miss anything important.”
Actually, Saul hadn’t, but it was a damn good idea.
3. At Ventra Three.
“Are you out of your - umpf!”
There is always more than one way to look inconspicuous, but there is usually a best way. In this bar, that meant punching your CO in the stomach.
4. At Zak’s funeral.
“Come have a drink,” he said.
Bill didn’t look away from the coffin, bereft, now of the blue flag. It had been given to Zak’s mother - it was always given to the mother - and she, and Lee, had walked away, arm in arm. She had stopped to kiss Bill on the cheek, but he had not reacted. So, she had left. Saul couldn’t really blame her.
Trouble was, he couldn’t leave Bill here, either. Certainly not alone.
He put his hand on Adam’s shoulder, feeling the crinkling of fabric beneath his stiff formal gloves. “Come on, Bill,” he said gently. “Come have a drink.”
5. On the Galactica.
Saul doesn’t know about this, because Bill never mentions it. He’s saving it, Bill thinks, for a moment when it might do some good. Until then, he practices.
I heard you. Every day. I heard you speak to me.
His hands touch the scar on his chest, following the faint tingling in his flesh. It is all the sensation that he will ever have in that area, the Doctor told him regretfully. A numbness where his heart should be.
I heard you, Saul. I came back.
*
For selenak, Five times Sloane considered leaving the CIA before he actually did (the first time)
***
Two books reviews:
Catcher in the Rye
by J.D. Salinger
A book of two halves - the half where I was vaguely interested by Holden, and the half where I wanted him to get run over by a bus. This reminded me of the movie Cruel Intentions, where a teenaged kid thinks that he’s all grown up and better than everyone around him. And I mean everyone. Initially, this was interesting, but Holden’s overuse of the words ‘phony’ and ‘old’ really started to annoy me after a while. Mainly because he was sixteen, and entirely made of image. Scratch a little at that surface, and there’s nothing beneath. Basically, he was precisely the kind of person he professed to despise. He doesn’t like anything, he’s not interested in anything, and he wears his faults like a badge of honour. You know, like one of those people who say, “oh, I’m really obsessive about stuff like that, you wouldn’t believe it,” and smile ruefully, as if to say, “be fascinated by my obsession! It means I’m honest and I have depth!” No, actually, it means you’re a twunt.
So, not a big fan of Holden. I was completely sucked in by his narrative, though, because he was alive for me. I hated his living guts, true, but I totally bought him as a live character. So, I suppose that the book succeeds in this respect, and it certainly has some interesting things to say about unreliable narration etcetera. Ultimately, though, when you’re hoping that the lead will die and the book will end, you’re hardly going to go around recommending it to anyone.
*
The Crying of Lot 49
by Thomas Pynchon
I don’t know why I’m bothering to review this book, as I didn’t get it at all. I mean, I know that it was supposed to be in the vein of Joyce et al, and funny as hell, but that’s because I read the blurb, not because anything in the book jumped out at me. I don’t know if it’s good. I don’t know if it’s funny. I just didn’t get it. Which is annoying, I admit.
For monanotlisa, Five times Nadia had less-than-sibling-like thoughts about Syd.
1. When she first meets Sydney.
When Nadia first sees Syd, she is too tired to pay much attention to her erstwhile rescuer. It is only later, with her breath coming in short staccato bursts, gulping air despite her screaming lungs, that she finally looks at the woman slumped beside her. And thinks, pretty, just as she had as a child, peering into the windows of clothes shop.
Later, following stuttered, clumsy introductions, it occurs to her that she wasn’t allowed to touch those pretty things either.
2. When she first meets her father.
She isn’t waiting for Syd to rescue her. She isn’t. She doesn’t believe that she can rescue herself, either, but she knows enough to wait, quiet-like. She doesn’t need to be rescued to put herself out of her father’s reach.
Her father. This was her father? Moreover, this was Arvin Sloane? She was taller than him. Faster and stronger too, maybe. And you don’t need to outsmart someone who needs you alive; you just need to outrun them.
She’s not waiting for Syd to rescue her; she’s not imagining it at all. And, in this dream-she’s-not-having, Syd is very much related to her, of course she is, she isn’t hoping that Sloane made a mistake. That they all made a mistake.
(And if they did, then her family can be perfect and dead again, locked away for safekeeping.)
3. When she kisses Vaughn.
It’s for a mission - of course it is - and she’s immensely uncomfortable. There’s gloss on his lips that doesn’t belong there. It takes her a little while to realise why.
4. When she’s on the tower.
That’s not her sister. It’s not. She understands that the thing in front of her is a threat, and that it will stop her from fulfilling her purpose. Her pulse throbs in her ears, and she can barely hear the faint, unfamiliar sounds of the threat, talking talking talking and taking slow, careful steps forward.
The Passenger has no family.
She knows what she has to do.
5. When she wakes up.
She doesn’t remember where she is for a little bit. People come to see her; her father, Jack Bristow, doctors of various kinds. Eric comes by, and sits by her bedside for a bit. Debriefers come; debriefers go. All those around her are exercising every ounce of influence to keep her from any trouble, “you call me immediately, ok?”
There’s something niggling at the back of her mind, and she’s furious with herself that she can’t bring it to mind immediately. She’s trained for this, why is it not there?
When Sydney walks through the door, glowing and healthy and there, Nadia’s stomach tightens.
Oh, she thinks faintly, the familiar horrifying feeling returning. That’s what it was.
*
For bluerosefairy, Five times Saul Tigh saved Bill Adama's behind, instead of it being the other way around.
1. At a card game.
Bill Adama was a piss-poor player and had no business at the card table, was Saul Tigh’s honest opinion. And if Tigh hadn’t sabotaged his own winnings by helping out, he would have probably lost the shirt on his back.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” They’d retired for drinks and cigars to Adama’s quarters; Tigh’s being far to small to allow even this small luxury.
Adama drew heavily on the cigar, the cherry glowing red. “You know.”
Tigh studied the tumbler in his hand, turning it to catch the light. “No reason,” he said.
2. At the Passing-Out Week Officers’ Festivities .
For a strategist, Adama had a crappy memory. Almost sieve-like. Take away his organiser, and he’d have no clue what he was supposed to be doing.
Saul had been all for stealing said organiser, of course. It was tradition, and Adama was easy-going enough that the ritual pranks were more of an amusement to him than any serious breach of discipline. Saul suspected that this might change as Bill climbed up the chain of command - promotion had a way of leaching the humour from people - but, for the time being, they had more than enough leeway.
He was in charge of stealing and hiding it. Actually, he was in charge of stealing it, and then handing it over to the rest of the squadron for hiding (presumably in several pieces), but Saul decided that this was a stupid plan. So, into his own lock-up the organiser went, and no amount of pleading from Martinez would change his mind. “You idiots would probably lose it, and then where would we be?”
“You’re a frakking slave,” Martinez said, and rolled his eyes. “I bet you read it and all, just to make sure Adama doesn’t miss anything important.”
Actually, Saul hadn’t, but it was a damn good idea.
3. At Ventra Three.
“Are you out of your - umpf!”
There is always more than one way to look inconspicuous, but there is usually a best way. In this bar, that meant punching your CO in the stomach.
4. At Zak’s funeral.
“Come have a drink,” he said.
Bill didn’t look away from the coffin, bereft, now of the blue flag. It had been given to Zak’s mother - it was always given to the mother - and she, and Lee, had walked away, arm in arm. She had stopped to kiss Bill on the cheek, but he had not reacted. So, she had left. Saul couldn’t really blame her.
Trouble was, he couldn’t leave Bill here, either. Certainly not alone.
He put his hand on Adam’s shoulder, feeling the crinkling of fabric beneath his stiff formal gloves. “Come on, Bill,” he said gently. “Come have a drink.”
5. On the Galactica.
Saul doesn’t know about this, because Bill never mentions it. He’s saving it, Bill thinks, for a moment when it might do some good. Until then, he practices.
I heard you. Every day. I heard you speak to me.
His hands touch the scar on his chest, following the faint tingling in his flesh. It is all the sensation that he will ever have in that area, the Doctor told him regretfully. A numbness where his heart should be.
I heard you, Saul. I came back.
*
For selenak, Five times Sloane considered leaving the CIA before he actually did (the first time)
***
Two books reviews:
Catcher in the Rye
by J.D. Salinger
A book of two halves - the half where I was vaguely interested by Holden, and the half where I wanted him to get run over by a bus. This reminded me of the movie Cruel Intentions, where a teenaged kid thinks that he’s all grown up and better than everyone around him. And I mean everyone. Initially, this was interesting, but Holden’s overuse of the words ‘phony’ and ‘old’ really started to annoy me after a while. Mainly because he was sixteen, and entirely made of image. Scratch a little at that surface, and there’s nothing beneath. Basically, he was precisely the kind of person he professed to despise. He doesn’t like anything, he’s not interested in anything, and he wears his faults like a badge of honour. You know, like one of those people who say, “oh, I’m really obsessive about stuff like that, you wouldn’t believe it,” and smile ruefully, as if to say, “be fascinated by my obsession! It means I’m honest and I have depth!” No, actually, it means you’re a twunt.
So, not a big fan of Holden. I was completely sucked in by his narrative, though, because he was alive for me. I hated his living guts, true, but I totally bought him as a live character. So, I suppose that the book succeeds in this respect, and it certainly has some interesting things to say about unreliable narration etcetera. Ultimately, though, when you’re hoping that the lead will die and the book will end, you’re hardly going to go around recommending it to anyone.
*
The Crying of Lot 49
by Thomas Pynchon
I don’t know why I’m bothering to review this book, as I didn’t get it at all. I mean, I know that it was supposed to be in the vein of Joyce et al, and funny as hell, but that’s because I read the blurb, not because anything in the book jumped out at me. I don’t know if it’s good. I don’t know if it’s funny. I just didn’t get it. Which is annoying, I admit.