now with more Catholicism!
So tonight lisew was in town and we drank martinis on a patio by the water and talked (as we tend to do) about fandom. And shoes. We had a conversation which basically went like this:
termagantwrites: I hate the internet.
lisew: I really hate the internet.
termagantwrites: I am going to go straight home and post on livejournal about how much I hate the internet.
Um, but I love y'all. It's just, the other people on the internet. You know?
Anyway. Three weeks 'til the t-dot, baby. And that icon is coming. PS.
*flips through notes* OH BOY. Guys, you know what Chapter Six starts with, right?
I'm just going to do this as running quotations and then commentary, rather than lists like the time before, because I have too much individual freaking out to do in certain places. I'm having to break this up into even more posts than I thought, because it's taken me like two hours just to get through all the awesome in these three chapters.
Hornblower came aft, the sweat running down him [...] It was an unusual request that Hornblower made, and Roberts and Bush stared at him with surprise. [...] Hornblower was as good as his word; it was only two minutes before he returned, but now he was naked except for a towel draped sketchily round him. This was all very strange and homoerotic.
'Give away,' he said to the men at the pump handles. [...] 'Turn it on me,' said Hornblower, casting his towel aside and standing naked in the sunshine. [...] Hornblower twirled round and round under the stinging impact, his face screwed up in painful ecstasy. [...]
'He seems to be enjoying himself, sir,' said Bush.
Bush, looking at Hornblower revolving under the sparkling stream, was conscious of a prickling under his shirt in his heavy uniform coat, and actually had the feeling that it might be pleasurable to indulge in that sort of shower bath, however injurious it might be to the health. [...]
Hornblower grabbed his towel and came trotting back along the maindeck. He looked up at the group of officers with a grin which revealed his exhilaration and high spirits. [...]
'Let's hope he doesn't get himself a fever, checking the perspiration like that.' / 'He showed no sign of one, sir,' said Bush; lingering in Bush's mind's eye was the picture of Hornblower's grin. It blended with his memory of Hornblower's eager expression...
[231-3]
So I mean, I don't even really have to say anything about this. I kind of can't, honestly. Except that, once again, it delights me beyond words to know that Bush is actually perving on Hornblower just as crazily hard as the movies led me to believe. (PS, right after this bit he is totally imagining HH getting dressed: "Hornblower came running up to the quarterdeck with his telescope; he must have pulled on his clothes with the orderly rapidity that marked all his actions." [233])
Later on that page is a really great extended bit where Bush looks at Buckland and Hornblower and this leads into a whole thing about different types of officers, different types of men; my favourite thing in the world, though, is the parenthetical aside that "[Bush] knew almost nothing of mankind on land". Seriously, there is a little pencilled heart in the margin next to this line. I'm just saying.
I also love the mention [234] of officers "walking with their hands clasped behind them as a result of the training they had all received as midshipmen not to put their hands in their pockets." Straight up, I think everything I have ever written with a naval officer has involved the way they clasp their hands behind their backs. It's such an evocative little detail which stands for so much of what I love about the Navy and these characters.
-one thing I kind of meant to mention last time, and I'm thinking of it because there's a mention of "Catholic Emancipation" here on p. 235 in my whacko edition, is, well, Catholicism. (I'm about to go off on the crazy train here, I'm not gonna lie.) Anyway, there's also a reference in ch. 3 (right before Bush first realizes how gay he is for Hornblower, in fact) to "Jews, Catholics and Dissenters" being excused from attending church service - but here's the thing - Patrick O'Brian told me that Catholics weren't allowed into the service, at least not honestly; that those entering the Navy had to swear an oath renouncing the Pope. I don't have my copy of M&C at hand, so I can't check this detail, but I know it had to do with James Dillon (whom, incidentally, I love and adore), so I'm thinking maybe it's just for officers? (Can anyone confirm this?) But even so, it's something I find absurdly fascinating, the idea of Catholicism in the Navy - I know, I know, I am the most boring fangirl alive, but, like. I actually made a post about a month back on why I thought Commodore Norrington was/should be a (secret) Catholic and how much I wanted to explore this topic in fic, and then went back and privatized it because it seemed too stupid and cracktastic and I was 100% sure nobody would want to hear my insane thoughts on the subject. And then I talked to unefleurdelis a bunch about it anyway. Basically, oh my god am I ever getting off topic, but I have come to realize of late that one of my "bullet-proof kinks", as the kids call them, is shame. I find it fascinating and compelling and hot and, duh, it comes up a whole hell of a lot in any sort of gay + Navy equation, which is part of why I'm here - so you can see how gay + Navy + Catholic just tips the scales even further in that direction, yes? (viz. that thing I just posted where Hammond jerks off while thinking of Bush and saying Hail Mary. Um.)
Okay, on topic! Wellard is skylarking, Bush is super jealous because Buckland and Hornblower are talking secrets behind the gym again, flying fish- aww, flying fish. HH is such a doll when he's excited:"But I've never seen one before."
The play of expression on Hornblower's face was curious. One moment he was full of eager interest; the next he assumed an appearance of stolid indifference as a man might pull on a glove. [...] Hornblower was not going to be outdone in stolidity and self-control; if the wonders of the deep failed to move Bush they were not going to evoke any childish excitement in Hornblower, at least any apparent excitement if Hornblower could suppress it. [237]
"I could wish we were going into action and not running away to think about it."
"What a fire-eater!" said Bush.
"A fire-eater? Me? Nothing like that - quite the opposite. I wish - oh, I wish for too much, I suppose."
There was no explaining some people, thought Bush, philosophically. [241]
Bush, worried that Hornblower might be a coward:During the dogwatches Hornblower had paced the deck by himself, head bent in meditation; Bush noticed the fingers of the hands behind his back twisting and twining nervously, and he experienced a momentary doubt. Was it possible that this energetic young officer was lacking in physical courage? [...] Bush was not a man of large tolerance; if a man were a coward he wanted no more to do with him. [...] [Hornblower] stood with his feet apart, and Bush saw him put one hand into the other, behind his back, and clasp it firmly. There was a rigidity about the set of his shoulders and in the way he held his head that might be significant of anything, eagerness for action or the reverse. [242-4]
Also, useful word - linstock. True story: not that long ago the unboyfriend and I were having a mild dispute over whether or not flintlocks would have been used to fire cannon in 1805 (yes, my life is actually this retarded awesome), and I think my argument may have been weakened somewhat by my use of the phrase "that fire stick they put in the hole". Now I know better!
Oh my God! Hornblower was looking round at him and making an urgent gesture downwards to confirm the awful thought. The Renown was aground. [...] Bush could only look at him and swear, pouring out filth from his mouth as the only means of relieving his overwrought feelings. [...] By the time Hornblower looked round at Bush again the latter had regained his self-control.[247]
Okay, possibly I am crazy, but I just really like this. I mean, a) Bush's overwrought feelings omg, and b) I just like the idea of him swearing like, well, a sailor. Particularly as the natural means of catharsis for someone who, again, is in many ways terribly inarticulate.
Bush felt the perspiration prickling under his uniform, and his stock constricted his thick neck so that every now and again he put two fingers into it and tugged, without relief. It would have been the simplest matter in the world to take off his heavy uniform coat and unhook his stock, but it never crossed his mind that he should do so. Bodily discomfort was something that one bore without complaint in a hard world; habit and pride both helped.
ahsfsdfsog <33333333333. Oh, Bush, marry me.
Hornblower came into the cabin with commendable promptitude, his hair tousled and his clothes obviously hastily thrown on.
AHAHAHA um but wait, Bush is already in the cabin. What?
Whom did he want at his side at this, one of the most important moments in his career? [...] This whole internal debate of Bush's did not take definite shape, with formal arguments pro and con; it was rather a conflict of prejudices and instincts, the result of years of experience, which Bush could never have expressed in words. He decided he needed neither Hornblower or Smith at the moment before he looked again at Hornblower's face. Hornblower was trying to remain impassive; but Bush could see, with sympathetic insight, how desperately anxious he was to be invited to join in the expedition. Any officer would want to go, of course, would yearn to be given an opportunity to distinguish himself, but actuating Hornblower was some motive more urgent than this. Hornblower's hands were at his sides, in the "attention" position, but Bush noticed how the long fingers tapped against his thighs, restrained themselves, and then tapped again uncontrollably. It was not cool judgement that finally brought Bush to his decision, but something quite otherwise. It might be called kindliness; it might be called affection. He had grown fond of this volatile, versatile young man, and he had no doubts now as to his physical courage.
"I'd like Mr. Hornblower to come with me, sir," he said. [260-1]
IT IS LOVE, OMG. And shortly thereafter:There was so much of relief, so much of gratitude, in the way Hornblower looked at him that Bush experienced a kindly glow of magnanimity; he felt a bigger and better man for what he had done. [261]
I have no words. he felt a bigger and better man - I just have no words. (Also, just after this, another one of those perfectly-turned insights into Bush: "It was as natural for Bush to argue down opposition once he had committed himself as it might be for a fish to snap at a lure." Seriously, marry me. I can cook.)
Anyway, this has gotten really long and it's 1:30 in the morning and I have comments to respond to, probably from exactly the same people patient enough to read this entire absurd thing! (shall respond in the morning, omg hi bed.) More tomorrow - Chapter 10 filled me with unbelievable amounts of fangirlish joy, so lots to say about that.
termagantwrites: I hate the internet.
lisew: I really hate the internet.
termagantwrites: I am going to go straight home and post on livejournal about how much I hate the internet.
Um, but I love y'all. It's just, the other people on the internet. You know?
Anyway. Three weeks 'til the t-dot, baby. And that icon is coming. PS.
*flips through notes* OH BOY. Guys, you know what Chapter Six starts with, right?
I'm just going to do this as running quotations and then commentary, rather than lists like the time before, because I have too much individual freaking out to do in certain places. I'm having to break this up into even more posts than I thought, because it's taken me like two hours just to get through all the awesome in these three chapters.
Hornblower came aft, the sweat running down him [...] It was an unusual request that Hornblower made, and Roberts and Bush stared at him with surprise. [...] Hornblower was as good as his word; it was only two minutes before he returned, but now he was naked except for a towel draped sketchily round him. This was all very strange and homoerotic.
'Give away,' he said to the men at the pump handles. [...] 'Turn it on me,' said Hornblower, casting his towel aside and standing naked in the sunshine. [...] Hornblower twirled round and round under the stinging impact, his face screwed up in painful ecstasy. [...]
'He seems to be enjoying himself, sir,' said Bush.
Bush, looking at Hornblower revolving under the sparkling stream, was conscious of a prickling under his shirt in his heavy uniform coat, and actually had the feeling that it might be pleasurable to indulge in that sort of shower bath, however injurious it might be to the health. [...]
Hornblower grabbed his towel and came trotting back along the maindeck. He looked up at the group of officers with a grin which revealed his exhilaration and high spirits. [...]
'Let's hope he doesn't get himself a fever, checking the perspiration like that.' / 'He showed no sign of one, sir,' said Bush; lingering in Bush's mind's eye was the picture of Hornblower's grin. It blended with his memory of Hornblower's eager expression...
[231-3]
So I mean, I don't even really have to say anything about this. I kind of can't, honestly. Except that, once again, it delights me beyond words to know that Bush is actually perving on Hornblower just as crazily hard as the movies led me to believe. (PS, right after this bit he is totally imagining HH getting dressed: "Hornblower came running up to the quarterdeck with his telescope; he must have pulled on his clothes with the orderly rapidity that marked all his actions." [233])
Later on that page is a really great extended bit where Bush looks at Buckland and Hornblower and this leads into a whole thing about different types of officers, different types of men; my favourite thing in the world, though, is the parenthetical aside that "[Bush] knew almost nothing of mankind on land". Seriously, there is a little pencilled heart in the margin next to this line. I'm just saying.
I also love the mention [234] of officers "walking with their hands clasped behind them as a result of the training they had all received as midshipmen not to put their hands in their pockets." Straight up, I think everything I have ever written with a naval officer has involved the way they clasp their hands behind their backs. It's such an evocative little detail which stands for so much of what I love about the Navy and these characters.
-one thing I kind of meant to mention last time, and I'm thinking of it because there's a mention of "Catholic Emancipation" here on p. 235 in my whacko edition, is, well, Catholicism. (I'm about to go off on the crazy train here, I'm not gonna lie.) Anyway, there's also a reference in ch. 3 (right before Bush first realizes how gay he is for Hornblower, in fact) to "Jews, Catholics and Dissenters" being excused from attending church service - but here's the thing - Patrick O'Brian told me that Catholics weren't allowed into the service, at least not honestly; that those entering the Navy had to swear an oath renouncing the Pope. I don't have my copy of M&C at hand, so I can't check this detail, but I know it had to do with James Dillon (whom, incidentally, I love and adore), so I'm thinking maybe it's just for officers? (Can anyone confirm this?) But even so, it's something I find absurdly fascinating, the idea of Catholicism in the Navy - I know, I know, I am the most boring fangirl alive, but, like. I actually made a post about a month back on why I thought Commodore Norrington was/should be a (secret) Catholic and how much I wanted to explore this topic in fic, and then went back and privatized it because it seemed too stupid and cracktastic and I was 100% sure nobody would want to hear my insane thoughts on the subject. And then I talked to unefleurdelis a bunch about it anyway. Basically, oh my god am I ever getting off topic, but I have come to realize of late that one of my "bullet-proof kinks", as the kids call them, is shame. I find it fascinating and compelling and hot and, duh, it comes up a whole hell of a lot in any sort of gay + Navy equation, which is part of why I'm here - so you can see how gay + Navy + Catholic just tips the scales even further in that direction, yes? (viz. that thing I just posted where Hammond jerks off while thinking of Bush and saying Hail Mary. Um.)
Okay, on topic! Wellard is skylarking, Bush is super jealous because Buckland and Hornblower are talking secrets behind the gym again, flying fish- aww, flying fish. HH is such a doll when he's excited:"But I've never seen one before."
The play of expression on Hornblower's face was curious. One moment he was full of eager interest; the next he assumed an appearance of stolid indifference as a man might pull on a glove. [...] Hornblower was not going to be outdone in stolidity and self-control; if the wonders of the deep failed to move Bush they were not going to evoke any childish excitement in Hornblower, at least any apparent excitement if Hornblower could suppress it. [237]
"I could wish we were going into action and not running away to think about it."
"What a fire-eater!" said Bush.
"A fire-eater? Me? Nothing like that - quite the opposite. I wish - oh, I wish for too much, I suppose."
There was no explaining some people, thought Bush, philosophically. [241]
Bush, worried that Hornblower might be a coward:During the dogwatches Hornblower had paced the deck by himself, head bent in meditation; Bush noticed the fingers of the hands behind his back twisting and twining nervously, and he experienced a momentary doubt. Was it possible that this energetic young officer was lacking in physical courage? [...] Bush was not a man of large tolerance; if a man were a coward he wanted no more to do with him. [...] [Hornblower] stood with his feet apart, and Bush saw him put one hand into the other, behind his back, and clasp it firmly. There was a rigidity about the set of his shoulders and in the way he held his head that might be significant of anything, eagerness for action or the reverse. [242-4]
Also, useful word - linstock. True story: not that long ago the unboyfriend and I were having a mild dispute over whether or not flintlocks would have been used to fire cannon in 1805 (yes, my life is actually this retarded awesome), and I think my argument may have been weakened somewhat by my use of the phrase "that fire stick they put in the hole". Now I know better!
Oh my God! Hornblower was looking round at him and making an urgent gesture downwards to confirm the awful thought. The Renown was aground. [...] Bush could only look at him and swear, pouring out filth from his mouth as the only means of relieving his overwrought feelings. [...] By the time Hornblower looked round at Bush again the latter had regained his self-control.[247]
Okay, possibly I am crazy, but I just really like this. I mean, a) Bush's overwrought feelings omg, and b) I just like the idea of him swearing like, well, a sailor. Particularly as the natural means of catharsis for someone who, again, is in many ways terribly inarticulate.
Bush felt the perspiration prickling under his uniform, and his stock constricted his thick neck so that every now and again he put two fingers into it and tugged, without relief. It would have been the simplest matter in the world to take off his heavy uniform coat and unhook his stock, but it never crossed his mind that he should do so. Bodily discomfort was something that one bore without complaint in a hard world; habit and pride both helped.
ahsfsdfsog <33333333333. Oh, Bush, marry me.
Hornblower came into the cabin with commendable promptitude, his hair tousled and his clothes obviously hastily thrown on.
AHAHAHA um but wait, Bush is already in the cabin. What?
Whom did he want at his side at this, one of the most important moments in his career? [...] This whole internal debate of Bush's did not take definite shape, with formal arguments pro and con; it was rather a conflict of prejudices and instincts, the result of years of experience, which Bush could never have expressed in words. He decided he needed neither Hornblower or Smith at the moment before he looked again at Hornblower's face. Hornblower was trying to remain impassive; but Bush could see, with sympathetic insight, how desperately anxious he was to be invited to join in the expedition. Any officer would want to go, of course, would yearn to be given an opportunity to distinguish himself, but actuating Hornblower was some motive more urgent than this. Hornblower's hands were at his sides, in the "attention" position, but Bush noticed how the long fingers tapped against his thighs, restrained themselves, and then tapped again uncontrollably. It was not cool judgement that finally brought Bush to his decision, but something quite otherwise. It might be called kindliness; it might be called affection. He had grown fond of this volatile, versatile young man, and he had no doubts now as to his physical courage.
"I'd like Mr. Hornblower to come with me, sir," he said. [260-1]
IT IS LOVE, OMG. And shortly thereafter:There was so much of relief, so much of gratitude, in the way Hornblower looked at him that Bush experienced a kindly glow of magnanimity; he felt a bigger and better man for what he had done. [261]
I have no words. he felt a bigger and better man - I just have no words. (Also, just after this, another one of those perfectly-turned insights into Bush: "It was as natural for Bush to argue down opposition once he had committed himself as it might be for a fish to snap at a lure." Seriously, marry me. I can cook.)
Anyway, this has gotten really long and it's 1:30 in the morning and I have comments to respond to, probably from exactly the same people patient enough to read this entire absurd thing! (shall respond in the morning, omg hi bed.) More tomorrow - Chapter 10 filled me with unbelievable amounts of fangirlish joy, so lots to say about that.