oh?

I had a big fanfic in a previous fandom where one of the big reveals was the involvement of a kind of infamous villain, whose presence was built up to and foreshadowed through the whole fic until his reveal without ever mentioning his name, so that the name drop would be a gut punch. It worked especially well because of who the villain was and his presence in that fandom space specifically (it's very complicated) and if it was an original story this reveal wouldn't work at all the way it was written in the fic. Because if you don't have a predisposition to think about that character and his relationship to the hero in a very specific way, then just seeing their name won't do much to you; the reveal and the recontextualisation it pushes upon you hinges on your previous knowledge of the source material.

I think it's an interesting tool fanfic authors are given. One of my favorite fanfic of all time is partially a re-imagining of its source material's canon, and something it does is introduce antagonists much earlier in the story or deepen npcs' stories. It then works to evoke a tragic irony that again wouldn't work if you didn't know the source material, and it's something the author obviously has a lot of fun with.

Does no one realize how racist this assumption can be? Most LLMs are trained heavily on Commonwealth and other standardized English corpora, yet now when people from Commonwealth countries naturally write in polished English, others immediately say it “sounds AI-generated.”

that said, these posts have the absolute wrong end of the stick. first of all, the very first to call this story out were -- understandably, because they were the ones most closely watching the commonwealth prize regional winners -- Black and caribbean writers and poets, like chiemeziem everest udochukwu and previous commonwealth prize winner and fellow trinidadian kevin jared hosain.

secondly, OP (and many, many people in the notes) correctly describes a phenomenon -- the way in which AI writing can resemble styles of writing common in nations that were formerly colonized by the UK -- almost certainly in reference to marcus olang's essay I'm Kenyan. I Don't Write Like ChatGPT. ChatGPT Writes Like Me. but this phenomenon has absolutely nothing to do with jamir nazir's piece. the similarities olang' draws between kenyan english and chatgpt are strict structure, the use of specific sayings, and a propensity to use 'wow words' --

The third, and perhaps most important commandment, was that of structure. An essay had to be a perfect edifice. The introduction was the foundation, the body was the walls, and the conclusion was the roof, neatly summarising the moral of the story and, if you were clever, circling back to the introductory proverb to create a satisfying, if predictable, loop. We were taught to build our paragraphs around a strong topic sentence. We were taught the sin of the sentence fragment and the virtue of the compound-complex sentence.

whatever you might think of "the serpent in the grove", i think it is extremely safe to say that this very much does not describe it.

and now i want to get onto the reblog, which really truly bothers me because of the ways it is unintentionally closing ranks around the profoundly racist and imperialist set of pre-approved conceptions of 'postcolonial literature'. because frankly, the serpent in the grove is not thoughtful or complex--it is barely coherent, in very obvious ways. everyone who has written about it has pulled all the same quotes, but here's a few of the nonsense metaphors to illustrate:

A man who had cleared brush like a conscience

Hard living lays itself on a man like wet sacking; it never asks permission

Coffee and cocoa leaned wild on a slope that wanted either rain in teeth or none at all

She had the kind of walking that made benches become men

(this sort of bluntly failed similie is incredibly characteristic of ai creative writing by the by, far more than any of the elements olang' complains about being accused over, which mostly show up in technical/conversational AI material. @nostalgebraist calls it the "eyeball kick". my favourite exmaple i've seen over the years is “the moon was truly mother-of-pearl, the white of the sea, rubbed smooth by the groins of drowned brides.”)

what it is, however, is essentially an intense pastiche of all the frankly racist tropes of "prestige postcolonial literature". i mean, look at what judge sharma taylor said about it:

Jamir Nazir’s language is sublime—precise yet richly evocative—conjuring vivid, lush imagery with remarkable economy. Through sharp sensory detail, he renders the Grove as a living presence, where labour, landscape, and memory are intimately entwined. Polished and confident, this is a story with a melodic voice that lingers long after the final line. Jamir Nazir’s prose pulses with a voice of restraint and quiet authority—a beautifully told and assured piece of storytelling.

writing from the global periphery, from the caribbean or africa or south east asia or latin america, is always "rich", it is always "sensory," "lush", it is always "about landscape and memory", it is always "melodic." these are exhausted tropes that have been used to describe basically all literature from ex-colonies for the last 50 years, regardless of what they're actually like

latin american writers and critics like sylvia molloy and jorge volpi have talked about the "choke-chain" of 'magical realism', this titanic sweeping label that gets applied to anything coming out of latin america, something that for a long time sreved as a measuring stick to evaluate Real Prestigious Worthwhile Latin American Literature.

there is a commonality there, and that is that literature from The Third World is meant to be about the Land, about the Peoples, about the Personal Struggles, about the Rich Fantastical Vibrant Melody History Memory--this is a mold that has been imposed first by the european and usamerican literary establishments and from there internalized and adopted in literary scenes around the world. volpi criticizes the picture of latin america that the "magical realism" wants to push onto all latin american ltierature as one of "irrationality [...] a lack of reason".

incomprehensibility--the very reaction in the reblog of "oh, i don't understand this, it must be some Cultural Element i'm not understanding" is treated as a de facto mark of authenticity. it's the mass exoticization of this literature, treating it as some endlessly mysterious Other whose incomprehensiblity gives the white literary world a look into the Mysterious Foreign Mind

and it is genuinely really frustrating after years of authors from the global periphery (and in various diaspora, because this type of ritualized Authenticty Signalling is a huge feature of prestige diaspora literature and the subject of the exact same ongoing fierce internal debate, e.g. this piece or this one) trying to escape these stifling tropes, these exotifying expectations, to have a story that--AI or not (and i don't think the 'not' is very likely)--thoughtlessly and mechanistically repeats them, drowning itself in florid incoherence, get this kind of defense from people who earnestly think they are being anti-racist.

i leave off with a couple of good pieces on the story itself and its reception:

he had so much sex his biographers straight up gave up trying to document all of his sexual partners. he was reported to fuck up to 3-9 times a day. He had a secret sex diary written in code. He had “official” and “unofficial” mistresses. One estimate was that he had ~200 sexual partners in two years. 

Many articles make similar claims to those above. However, much of this information circulates without a clear source, and I have struggled to find reputable/high level sources for some of this information. Therefore, keep in mind that some of this may be exaggerated or potentially unreliable.

Obviously, I cannot account for the sexual of history of every human who has ever lived, but evidence does suggest that Victor Hugo had a… lively sex life.

From Medium: ‘Sex was so involved in Hugo’s daily life that one biographer wrote the following while describing a typical day in Hugo’s life:

“It was not unusual for him to make love to a young prostitute in the morning, an actress before lunch, a courtesan as an aperitif, and then join the also ­indefatigable Juliette for a night of sex.”

[…] Hugo claimed that on the wedding night, he and his wife had sex nine times.’

His encoded sex diary is referenced on Wikipedia, but when I found an English translation of the source, I couldn’t find where in it they were sourcing.

From Wikipedia: 'He systematically reported his casual affairs using his own code, as Samuel Pepys did, to make sure they would remain secret.’

The source is listed as: 'Hugo, Victor, Choses vues 1870–1885, p. 529, ISBN 2070361411, pp. 371, 521 (n. 1).’

I’ve found Choses Vues here in the original French and here translated into English. If anyone can find anything in here about the encoded sex diary, please let me know!

His 'official mistress’ is likely in reference to Juliette Drouet.

From EBSCO: 'Since 1833, Hugo had maintained a liaison with a beautiful female actor, Juliette Drouet, who for twelve years followed a cloistered existence relieved only by six-week summer holidays with her lover.’

His 'unofficial mistress’ is likely in reference to Léonie d’Aunet Biard.

From The Common Reader: 'Overlapping was a seven-year affair with travel writer and Arctic explorer Léonie d’Aunet Biard, whose husband finally brought a police officer to the Paris hotel and caught them in flagrante.’

I have found articles that circulate the '200’ claim, but none that give a source for the information.

From Medium: 'Not only that but he bedded 200 women in this hotel in just two years.’

The claim that brothels were closed on the day of his funeral is again circulated frequently without claim. The only sourced part of the claim I can find is a second hand report that sex workers had 'draped their gentials in black crepe’.

From The Guardian: ’[…] when Hugo died the brothels of Paris closed down for a day of mourning, allowing all the city’s sex workers to pay their last respects to a loyal client. Literary critic Edmond de Goncourt claimed a police officer told him that sex workers even draped their genitals in black crepe as a mark of respect.’

And an estimated 2 million people attended his funeral procession.

From Funeral Conflicts in Nineteenth-Century France: 'Two million people came to see Hugo’s body lying in state at the Arc de Triomphe’

He would've been by her bedside every day no matter what anyone else thought about it, he would have held her hair back when she threw up and tucked her in when she was cold and told her dad that he and his new family could go fuck themselves, the baby included. He would've skipped school and gone back just to tell Marlowe that Rae might not throw her out the window but he gladly would, and he would've learned to get along with Alice and he'd have memorized the whole Time of Iron series just to read it to Rae when she was awake. He'd steal the hospital popsicles for her and beat the crap out of anyone who made her feel bad when she started losing her hair, he'd have held her and raged with her *becoming increasingly hysterical* He'd have been there for her until the end and after that. No matter how mean and tired she got, no matter how m any times they tried to kick him out, he'd have slept on the hospital floor just to stay by her side. Love survives death.

You guys get it. That was why the Emperor was Rae’s favourite character: he has what she desperately wanted and nobody could offer her. My boy may need to be committed but he commits. He would have.