H: tLJ recs
Jun. 20th, 2003 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marycrawfordI said I'd be using this journal for recs, didn't I? All right then. Here's the first, one of my favorite Hercules stories. As with nearly all my Hercules faves, it focuses on the Hercules/Iolaus relationship.
(I know there are people out there who love Ares/Joxer or Iphicles/Ares or Iolaus/Iolaus2. I will defend their right to do so to anyone, vehemently, as long as I don't have to read or rec it, for theirs is a love that passeth my understanding.)
The Old Woman, the Otterkin, and the Eagle's Child, by Pythia. (gen).
This is still my favorite of Pythia's stories. The point of view is what makes this story exceptional, IMO: when Pythia is telling a story in her regular omniscient POV she can be a little long on rhetoric, foreshadowing and explanation. But this story is told solely by Kirkell, an old wise woman of a fishing folk, and the telling grows thereby. Her voice is beautifully authentic; the fisherfolk have their own rituals and culture and Kirkell refers to these glancingly, much as I would when describing something in my own life. The story she tells is rich in detail, unhurried but full of adventure - my favorite kind.
I love the plot, too - she finds Iolaus on the beach and decides to raise him as if he were a son of the folk, not knowing that he isn't entirely his own self and that a certain demigod will be along to restore him. I can't say much more than that without giving away important plot points, so here's a sample:
"Little mother," came the question, filled with patient amusement. "What are you doing?"
"What I must," I replied. Had he forgotten the customs I had taught him? The way to treat a guest and how to acknowledge one who was not of the folk? He grinned at me, and my frown collapsed into confusion.
"Don’t be silly," he laughed. "Put that old thing away. Fetch the festival cups and put some decent mead into them. Herc's not a guest - he’s family."
"Family?" I echoed, glancing from one man to the other as I did so. Looking for my friend, Hercules had said. My friend, not my brother. There was a likeness between them both, but not so close as to think ...
"Oh yeah," that warm voice insisted, and the grin widened as he looked at the man beside him. "He is as kin to me, and all that is mine is his."
Go! Read!
(I know there are people out there who love Ares/Joxer or Iphicles/Ares or Iolaus/Iolaus2. I will defend their right to do so to anyone, vehemently, as long as I don't have to read or rec it, for theirs is a love that passeth my understanding.)
The Old Woman, the Otterkin, and the Eagle's Child, by Pythia. (gen).
This is still my favorite of Pythia's stories. The point of view is what makes this story exceptional, IMO: when Pythia is telling a story in her regular omniscient POV she can be a little long on rhetoric, foreshadowing and explanation. But this story is told solely by Kirkell, an old wise woman of a fishing folk, and the telling grows thereby. Her voice is beautifully authentic; the fisherfolk have their own rituals and culture and Kirkell refers to these glancingly, much as I would when describing something in my own life. The story she tells is rich in detail, unhurried but full of adventure - my favorite kind.
I love the plot, too - she finds Iolaus on the beach and decides to raise him as if he were a son of the folk, not knowing that he isn't entirely his own self and that a certain demigod will be along to restore him. I can't say much more than that without giving away important plot points, so here's a sample:
"Little mother," came the question, filled with patient amusement. "What are you doing?"
"What I must," I replied. Had he forgotten the customs I had taught him? The way to treat a guest and how to acknowledge one who was not of the folk? He grinned at me, and my frown collapsed into confusion.
"Don’t be silly," he laughed. "Put that old thing away. Fetch the festival cups and put some decent mead into them. Herc's not a guest - he’s family."
"Family?" I echoed, glancing from one man to the other as I did so. Looking for my friend, Hercules had said. My friend, not my brother. There was a likeness between them both, but not so close as to think ...
"Oh yeah," that warm voice insisted, and the grin widened as he looked at the man beside him. "He is as kin to me, and all that is mine is his."
Go! Read!