sing out, louise

In the fortress Shushan lived a Jew by the name of Mordecai, son of Jair son of Shimei son of Kish, a Benjaminite.

[Kish] had been exiled from Jerusalem in the group that was carried into exile along with King Jeconiah of Judah, who had been driven into exile by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon.

He was foster father to Hadassah—that is, Esther—his uncle’s daughter, for she had neither father nor mother. The maiden was shapely and beautiful; and when her father and mother died, Mordecai adopted her as his own daughter

Me:

In King’s Landing, the imperial city, lived a Northerner by the name of Jon Snow, son of Lyanna daughter of Rickard son of Edwyle, of House Stark.

(The Starks had been dispersed from Winterfell among the Northerners who were carried into exile along with King Torrhen of the North, who had been driven into exile by Aegon the Conqueror of House Targaryen.)

Snow was foster father to Sansa—that is, Alayne—his uncle’s daughter, for she had neither father nor mother. The maiden was of comely form and of comely appearance; and when her father and mother died, Jon Snow adopted her as his own daughter.

It is both literary analysis and Bible commentary: a joke about Robert Baratheon being very similar to Ahasuerus (drunk, coarse, foolish misogynist) but also a way into visualizing the story of Purim through modern pop culture examples.

And then I think of Rowling pouring her money into gleeful, malevolent persecution of trans women.

‘I wonder if someone in this situation has been trapped,’ I mused to my husband, Jason, in the hotel room, pulling a floor-length dress over my head. The wedding invitation had urged us to wear modest clothing because the Eucharist would be present. It was for the Eucharist, then, that I was wrestling a thick anti-intercourse pair of tights up towards my waist. ‘I had a lot of imagination and I entrapped you. You should be eternally grateful I didn’t give you a weird baby. In almost any other situation you would have ended up with a weird baby.’ ‘That’s true,’ he said, neatly tying his Pride trainers, which cause Midwestern women in elevators to first compliment him and then fall hideously silent. ‘What would you have preferred?’ He paused, but I already knew. ‘Mountain-top philosopher who invented a new kind of veganism where the bee told him the secret in the glade.’