Ya know, what's interesting about your drabbles? They are only 100 words, but they always always always feel like I've just read a whole bunch more. Certainly not just 100 words.
Thanks so much for that! I suppose there are many philosophies for writing drables, but that's the one I prefer to try to follow: just how much can I convey in 100 words?
Re: HorizonanglopollyannaSeptember 12 2006, 22:14:12 UTC
Eerily apt, don't you think? Yes! Amazing parallels, or, perhaps more accurately, the light and shade of the poem and drabble intertwining like chiaroscuro.
I know I've said this before and I see someone else has said it here already as well, so I'm sorry to be unoriginal, but, your drabbles, I think, really are poems. The very sounds of the words evoke emotion; and your word-imagery is just so striking and profound. You're very good at this little genre. :-)
That last line is a killer, and I think that's Hornblower to the bone. Always eluded by the things---love, friendship, satisfaction---that really do bleong to him if only he was capable of knowing it. But this time it really is too late, and I think that's why he suffers so. This time he knows what he missed, and how he failed.
Another beauty, and another "review" from me that I think may be longer than the story!
Also, I somehow failed to notice how Hornblower never said a burial service for Bush -- did it get lost in Barbara's arrival and the rest? -- and now I have one more dissatisfaction about that novel to go with the rest.
Oh, thank you! I'm glad you liked my little experiment in poetry.
Maybe we are to assume that the service was held for Bush, and all the rest of the men lost. CSF simply never mentioned it. Or perhaps, with no body, HH could not bring himself to think of Bush as gone.
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Ya know, what's interesting about your drabbles? They are only 100 words, but they always always always feel like I've just read a whole bunch more. Certainly not just 100 words.
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I'm delighted to know that sometimes it works.
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West of these out to seas colder than the Hebrides I must go
Where the fleet of stars is anchored, and the young star-captains glow.
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Thank you!
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That last line is a killer, and I think that's Hornblower to the bone. Always eluded by the things---love, friendship, satisfaction---that really do bleong to him if only he was capable of knowing it. But this time it really is too late, and I think that's why he suffers so. This time he knows what he missed, and how he failed.
Another beauty, and another "review" from me that I think may be longer than the story!
:-) WJ
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Also, I somehow failed to notice how Hornblower never said a burial service for Bush -- did it get lost in Barbara's arrival and the rest? -- and now I have one more dissatisfaction about that novel to go with the rest.
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Maybe we are to assume that the service was held for Bush, and all the rest of the men lost. CSF simply never mentioned it. Or perhaps, with no body, HH could not bring himself to think of Bush as gone.
CSF did, it seems. Porta Coeli...Heaven's Gate.
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