“Dinner all ready, dear? I’ve brought a new tablecloth and napkins––thought ours were a bit shabby. And the wine, of course.” He lifted the bottle in his hand, smiling, then leaned forward to peer at me, and stopped smiling. He looked disapprovingly from my disheveled hair to my blouse, freshly stained with spit-up milk.
“Christ, Claire,” he said. “Couldn’t you fix yourself up a bit? I mean, it’s not as though you have anything else to do, at home all day––couldn’t you take a few minutes for a––”
“No,” I said, quite loudly. I pushed Brianna, who was wailing again with fretful exhaustion, into his arms.
“No,” I said again, and took the wine bottle from his unresisting hand.
“NO!” I shrieked, stamping my foot. I swung the bottle widely, and he dodged, but it was the doorjamb I struck, and purplish splatters of Beaujolais flew across the stoop, leaving glass shards glittering in the light from the entryway.
Came to this scene in my Voyager reread today and it seemed appropriate for International Women’s Day and the Day without Women Strike. I think Claire’s only regret (and many of ours) is the tragic loss of wine experienced in the exchange. Beyond that, you tell him, Claire.
To every woman who’s ever had the way they spend their time questioned or judged, be like Claire and don’t be afraid to tell them to go:
“Ah, Claire.” He spoke impatiently, but with a tinge of affection nonetheless. “You’ve known forever who you are. Do you realize at all how unusual it is to know that?”
“No.” I wiped my nose with the shredding tissue, dabbing carefully to keep it in one piece.
Frank leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as he looked at me.
“No, I suppose not,” he said.[…] “I haven’t got that,” he said quietly at last. “I’m good, all right. At what I do––the teaching, the writing. Bloody splendid sometimes, in fact. And I like it a good bit, enjoy what I do. But the thing is––” He hesitated, then looked at me straight on, hazel-eyed and earnest. “I could do something else, and be as good. Care as much, or as little. I haven’t got that absolute conviction that there’s something in life I’m meant to do––and you have.”
“Is that good?” The edges of my nostrils were sore, and my eyes puffed from crying.
He laughed shortly. “It’s damned inconvenient, Claire. To you and me and Bree, all three. But my God, I do envy you sometimes.”
He reached out for my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, I let him have it.
“To have that passion for anything”––a small twitch tugged the corner of his mouth––”or anyone. That’s quite splendid, Claire, and quite terribly rare.” He squeezed my hand gently and let it go, turning to reach behind him for one of the books on the shelf beside the table.
It was one of his references, Woodhill’s Patriots, a series of profiles of the American Founding Fathers. […]
“These were people like that. The ones who cared so terribly much––enough to risk everything, enough to change and do things. Most people aren’t like that, you know. It isn’t that they don’t care, but that they don’t care so greatly.” He took my hand again, this time turning it over. One finger traced the lines that webbed my palm, tickling as it went.
“Is it there, I wonder?” he said, smiling a little. “Are some people destined for a great fate, or to do great things? Or is it only that they’re born somehow with that great passion––and if they find themselves in the right circumstances, then things happen? It’s the sort of thing you wonder, studying history… but there’s no way of telling, really. All we know is what they accomplished.
“But Claire––” His eyes held a definite note of warning, as he tapped the cover of his book. “They paid for it,” he said.
–– Voyager by Diana Gabaldon
First off, add this to the list of scenes I really want to see in Season 3.
Second, it can be so easy sometimes to write Frank off based on how his relationship with Claire ended. But as Claire remembers from time to time throughout the books, things with Frank weren’t all bad, just as they weren’t all good. This is one of those scenes where he doesn’t necessarily understand her but he recognizes something in her that is different, even if he can’t name it. He wants to understand but simply doesn’t know how.
Beyond acknowledging that drive within her to be a healer, he is subtly acknowledging more––the unique nature of her relationship with Jamie. He notes that “To have that passion for anything […] or anyone” is rare. He is perhaps trying to acknowledge the pain that she feels in her loss––even years later––and in the only way he knows how; by not asking her to give up something else she is passionate about, by not forcing her to try and discard another part of herself. Frank does still love her and he can see how much she has changed and I think it pains him to see her broken, especially compared to what she was when they were first married. I think at this point in time (about eight years after her return) he’s accepted that she isn’t going to go back to being that woman on her own but that maybe he thinks medical school and pursuing this particular passion will help her get closer to what she was before.
That final line can hardly feel anything but ominous. “They paid for it.” There is “a definite note of warning” that suggests Frank fears/believes that Claire might not be done paying for it, though it could also be argued (and Claire might well argue at that point) that losing Jamie had been payment enough.
There are elements of the conversation as a whole that echo earlier conversations in Voyager and the earlier books, perhaps most notably the concluding pages of the previous chapter and section in which Mary MacNab explains to Jamie that she knows what he had with Claire was true love and that she, “never had that.” There’s, of course, the echoing of the palm reading Mrs. Graham performed back in the very first pages of the series, which Claire herself calls out a few paragraphs later. The line about “I haven’t got that absolute conviction that there’s something in life I’m meant to do––and you have” that brings to mind Jamie and Claire at Lallybroch and the “I was born for you” conversation.
Sometimes I think about the fact that, lacking the ability to curse, as his mouth was full of his own blood, Neville Longbottom jabbed a Death Eater in the fucking eye at fifteen years old, and I’m 80000000% sure his auror parents would be like THAT’S MY BOY!!!!! if they could see it because he is metal as fuck.
Let’s face it, we bookworms tend to put a lot of pressure on ourselves, when it comes to our reading, because we’re weird like that, but in a good way. And, the truth is that reading should always be fun. Guilt free. ALL THE FUN SO MUCH OF THE FUN BECAUSE WORDS ON PAGES *insert screech* You know what I’m talking about. So I thought that compiling a list of the reasons that bookworms feel guilty and why they should just stop would be a great idea
1. Not reaching our Goodreads challenge/lowering our goal for the year
In the past few years, the Goodreads challenge has become a staple of measuring achievement when it comes to reading. It has become insanely popular and it’s honestly such a good tool to keep track of everything you’re reading. But it also adds an immense amount of pressure. I’ve been there. When December rolls around and you see that you’re to the Goodreads challenge what Pluto is to being a planet in the Solar System (a.k.a. not even close; also VIVA LA PLUTO because Pluto deserved better smh), the panic sets in. You’re left with two options: lowering your goal or not finishing the challenge. Both make you feel like crap. But honestly, life makes us feel like crap far too many times, thank you very much, so let’s not let reading add to the ever growing pile of crap, am I right?
There’s no reason to feel guilty. If you read one book that year, you’re still a bookworm and it’s still a HUGE achievement. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t reach your challenge. It’s just a stupid tracking tool on the internet, it’s not something to measure your worth as a reader or as a person. You’re still awesome, even if you read just a page. Even one page counts. We’re busy, school and work get in the way 99% of the times. Unexpected life events occur. Shit happens. It’s normal and it’s expected, because life is fun and all that jazz.
Also, may I suggest a great idea: set your goal to one book for the year. Boom! Pressure off. You’ll still be able to see what books you read, how many pages and all that jazz, with the bonus that you don’t feel like hyperventilating every time you open your Goodreads account
2. Not finishing books (the dreaded DNF)
Let me tell you something right off the bat: life is too short to waste on books that you’re not enjoying. Yes, I know, if you’re like me, you die a little on the inside every time you are at that point where you want to scream at the book you’re reading: BUT WHY ARE YOU NOT GOOD WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME WHO DID I OFFEND IN A PREVIOUS LIFE FML FML. It’s a reality. But let’s face it: you’re not going to enjoy every single book you pick up. It’s just not written in the stars. Which is why it’s perfectly acceptable to just…stop reading it. Put it down. Hug a kitten. Contemplate the universe. Leave it be. Maybe pick it up at a later time, maybe not. But don’t feel guilty. You didn’t disappoint the book, yourself, the book gods or literature as a whole. It just wasn’t meant to be and you should never force yourself to read a book you’re not enjoying. In my case, every time I force myself to keep going with a book I’m not enjoying, I tent to end up in The-Thing-That-Should-Not-Be-Named a.k.a. the Book Slump™. Just…no.
3. Not reading classics
80% of the classics I’ve read have bored me to tears. I mean. I want me some dragons, magic and lost princesses. There are no such things in most classics (a huge oversight on the part of the writers, but I’m not pointing fingers). I’ve stumbled upon some that I really enjoyed, but too few to really make me actively pursue reading classics. The trouble is that a lot of people cringe so badly when you tell them that you don’t read classics.
“So yeah, I don’t really read or like classics” “OMG HOW DARE YOU I AM OFFENDED” “Um, I just..don’t really enjoy them/relate to the stories/want to live while I’m reading them” “BLASPHEMY. SACRILEGE. BEGONE HEATHEN. SHAAAAME”
Whenever people react like this, it puts me off reading classics even more, because I hate judgy people. But I digress. My point is, the amount of classics that you read or don’t read doesn’t indicate how “good” of a reader you are (fyi, there are no good or bad readers imo). It’s just indicative of the genres you enjoy reading. That is all. People who read classics aren’t THE BEST BOOKWORMS™. They’re just people. Like you.
4. Rereading books
I will shout this from the rooftops: I LOVE REREADING BOOKS. It’s something so refreshing and comfortable to go back to a book universe you fell in love with. To revisit favourite characters and go on adventures with them again. I reread at least a few books every year. Last year, I actively tried to reread at least one book each month. It was so much fun!
Rereading books can get you out of The Slump™. Rereading books is an excellent alternative for when you can’t afford to buy new books because stupid life costs money booooo. Rereading can be so insightful, because you notice so many things you missed on your first (or second, or third or…you get my drift) read. Rereading can be a whole new experience years after reading that book for the first time. Rereading a certain book can be the best for you at a certain time, because everything is familiar and safe. Rereading is absolutely no reason to feel guilty – people usually say they’re wasting time when they’re rereading (um, no), missing out on new releases (they’ll still be there a week later when you finish rereading your favourite book thank you very much), they fear not liking it as much the second time around (fine, I’ll give you this, it’s a possibility, BUT I ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE). Long story short: reread more books 2k17.
5. Neglecting books because life
We’re bookworms, yes. But we’re also People Who Need To Live and Function in Society. What does this mean? That we sometimes don’t have that much time to read (I know, it’s just so rude). Days may pass when we don’t read at all. Weeks. Sometimes months. Years? (all my college years were spent reading almost academic books exclusively; it was a dark time in my life). But that’s okay. There’s no reason to feel guilty for doing our best to live out lives. Doing that sometimes implies giving up certain things, because we simply don’t have the time or energy to do them. That doesn’t make us bad people or bad readers. Your books will still be waiting for you when you have the time to devote them your full attention. Books don’t judge.
Surprisingly or not, this is just part one. I have many feelings about this particular topic, because I really really want people to read books guilt free. And live the bookworm life to the fullest
I’d love to hear your thoughts on these points. And if there was ever a time you felt guilty for something book related
but….. my book reading has suffered so much after i became so codependent with my computer……… i hate this. i used to consume books like bread for breakfast, reading one in a span of hours, and now i can’t focus like sure i read, mostly very disappointing fanfics and i HATE THIS.
We’re coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can’t miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it’s better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we’ll come and get you at five o’clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we’ll come and get you at five o’clock on Sunday anyway.
one of many reasons why Ron Weasley is the best friend anyone could possibly imagine (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, chapter 3)
Does anyone else gets unreasonably excited and emotional while reading Kvothe’s admission to the University part in notw? I’m just. Laughing and choking with relief that he got in and it’s AT LEAST the 10th time I’ve read that part.
Please elaborate on the 🍑🍑 nature of this book/film for those of us unaware but entirely ready to see armie hammer like this
honestly, friend, I’m labouring the 🍑 point because otherwise I’ll think too hard about this movie and start FUCKING CRYING.
okay, so the Plot of the book is a 17-year-old Italian boy falling in deep, obsessive, passionate love with a 24-year-old American grad student who’s staying at his family’s villa for the summer. as you can imagine, being narrated by a lovelorn bisexual teenager, it’s INCREDIBLY FRAUGHT, and can probably best be summed up by the scene in which their bare feet touch under the dining table and it’s so intense that Elio gets a nosebleed.
while this may SOUND like your run-of-the-mill M/M steamy summer romance novel that you can buy for 99p on kindle books, it is ACTUALLY an incredible TOUR-DE-FORCE work of ART written by André Aciman, a PROFESSOR OF LITERARY THEORY, which made THE NEW YORK TIMES, PUBLISHER’S WEEKLY, WASHINGTON POST and CHICAGO TRIBUNE’S Books of the Year lists when it was published and ABOUT WHICH the FOLLOWING PHRASES were used: ‘an effortless and unaffected erudition; a brutal, rigorous mastery of language’! ‘Brave, acute, elated, naked, brutal, tender, humane and beautiful’! ‘Few novels since Proust’s In Search of Lost Time are this adept at capturing the nuances of human emotion’! ‘The beauty of Aciman’s writing and the purity of his passions should place this extraordinary first novel within the canon of great romantic love stories’! ‘Exquisite’! ‘Superb’! ‘Extraordinary’! (not to mention that I have read it once a year since first reading it in 2014 and now own three copies because I keep discovering it in secondhand bookshops and am unable to leave it behind. don’t trust the NYT. trust me.)
and NOT ONLY is A Movie being made, it is a movie directed by RESPECTED DIRECTOR LUCA GUADAGNINO, co-written by JAMES IVORY – of MERCHANT-IVORY PRODUCTIONS, director of such screen gems as Howards End, A Room With a View, The Remains of the Day and fucking MAURICE – starring TIMOTHEE CHALAMET (of being good on stage) and ARMIE HAMMER (of ‘I’m 6′5″, 220 and there’s two of me!’), ACTUAL WELL-KNOWN ACTORS, premiering at SUNDANCE FILM FESTIVAL (because it’s a [reverential pause] FILM, not just a MOVIE), and FEATURING ORIGINAL SONGS WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY SUFJAN STEVENS!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!!! I LITERALLY COULD NOT HAVE HAND-PICKED A BETTER COMBINATION OF THINGS!!!
yesterday it got bought by Sony Pictures Classics, which means a) world-wide distribution, and b) actual human beings have now seen it with their eyes. one of those #blest and chosen individuals said this: “Visually rich, stunning, deeply emotional and sensual, Call Me By Your Name confirms Luca Guadagnino as one of the world’s master filmmakers. It will be a privilege to bring the movie to audiences around the world.”
tl;dr in conclusion, Timothee Chalamet is going to fuck a peach and Armie Hammer is going to eat it while Sufjan Stevens sings about Jesus and being gay in the background and then, because that’s not enough, everyone at Sundance is going to give it a goddamn fucking standing ovation.
So I always thought Lockwood was supposed to be the equivalent of Nathaniel. In my head, they look a lot alike. Both are orphans, and both are male characters. It made sense that Lockwood was supposed to be Nat’s parallel.
But while rereading book one of Lockwood and Co, I realized that wasn’t actually the case. The one who is supposed to be Nathaniel is someone I never expected.
Let’s start by going back to Nathaniel’s childhood. We know his parents gave him up to the magicians just to get money. We know that he didn’t necessarily hate Mr. Underwood up until a certain point in time. When Mr. Underwood betrays him by not standing up to Lovelace, he dies in Nathaniel’s eyes.
Nathaniel begins to go down his own path, becoming independent from his teacher and eventually getting to a point where he summons Bartimaeus - despite not even being supposed to summon spirits, according to Mr. Underwood’s way of teaching him. Mr. Underwood underestimated his abilities.
He then becomes extremely close to Bartimaeus over the course of the book series.
Now let’s go to Lucy’s past.
Lucy is quick to tell us that her father is dead and that her mother was happy when Lucy was able to bring home money from her job. She wasn’t proud of her daughter - she just wanted Lucy’s paycheck. Lucy doesn’t hate her supervisor, Jacobs. She acknowledges his faults. It’s when he doesn’t do anything and her fellow agents die that he dies in Lucy’s eyes. She never gets to a point of hating him, but she certainly doesn’t like him. And, like with Mr. Underwood, Jacobs underestimated Lucy’s abilities. She knew something was wrong, but he didn’t believe her.
Lucy then becomes more independent than before, seeking her own path even though she’s still not completely ready because she hasn’t completed the final bit of her training. She eventually winds up at Lockwood and Co.
It’s here that Lucy meets and befriends the skull in the jar, who, as a lot of people have picked up, is a ghost version of Bartimaeus. And, over the course of the books, Lucy becomes very close to the skull.
sarah rees brennan’s book are so underrated which makes me sad bc they are so great
there’s the demon’s lexicon series which has one of my favourite sibling relationships ever, very morally ambiguous characters, great female characters, did i mention brothers who would do anything for each other????, questions about what it is to be human, the hate to love trope
the lynburn legacy which has a half japanese female protagonist, explores family dynamics, uses the word bisexual, a f/f relationship, has characters learning to value themselves, examines the difference between unhealthy and healthy relationships and how it can be okay to depend on others without it detracting from who you are
and there’s the turn of the story, where the main character is bisexual. also magic (you can access this for free)
her books have great characters, diversity, lgbtqa protags, amazing plot lines, and she writes families so well