Severe Luminary Perfection

And then there is the fact that the Stormlight Archives are a fantastic ride, but they are not exactly restrained. The Murderbot Diaries, in contrast, are beautifully subtle. They do such a good job at tackling heavy or messy subjects by examining their surroundings rather than the things themselves. While the Stormlight Archives are painted in bright colors, the Murderbot Diaries color in just the background and allow their actual motifs to remain vague sketches.

I like that approach a lot, especially for complicated things. The themes central to the Murderbot Diaries: personhood and identity, agency, trust, abuse and trauma - they feel real and important but they are so complex and full of nuance. I like that Wells did not try and pin them down but circles around them, explores them with great compassion but without moral authority. I think at his best, Sanderson does that too, but the sheer grandeur of his work sometimes gets in the way.

Dalinar as a Bondsmith is worth some final consideration, I think. He has been tasked to "unite them" and unite them he did. At first it meant the High Princes of Alethkar to him. Then it meant the Knights Radiant. Then it meant all of Roshar. Then it meant the Realms, physical, cognitive and spiritual. Finally, it meant the two shards, Odium and Honor.

I love that we never learned what exactly it was he was supposed to unite in the first place. I love that he impulsively chose whatever was in front of him and that those things became increasingly grandiose, until his final efforts created a new God. I cannot explain why, exactly, but I find this in equal measures amazing and funny.

First of all, I appreciate the idea of making the grand final fight a debate. It is a brilliant and hilarious twist on that trope. However, the thing about writing a debate is that you actually have to put the thing on paper. If it is not breathtakingly clever in it's own right, readers will k n o w. No suspension of disbelief is going to make up for poor execution. Which brings me to my problems with The Debate.

To start us off: "I did this thing in the past but I have since come to the realization that it was wrong" is a valid argument, a great one, even. Make it, Jasnah.

More importantly however, this should not be a moral debate in the first place. The basic politics on which to rest morale do not even check out. Taravangian offers Fen an agreement, yet he famously does not care about agreements. The entire setting of The Debate was just proven to have been a ruse. The whole siege situation they find themselves in is exactly because Taravangian does not care to uphold promises. Taravangian twisted his words like a fey and did not keep to the agreements at all, except in the letter. How would any of his promises have merit to Fen? He already showed how willing he is to exploit loopholes. Nothing short of a long, intricate, twice-checked contract should even be expected to do anything. Agreeing to something this vague is pure idiocy.

Taravangian did not win this debate, I know that. I was there. Do not try and tell me otherwise.

What if this is not at all heavy-handed characterization and is instead actually rather subtle plot? I have noticed that almost every one of his scenes is about him, in a way, breaking a promise. Admittedly, they are mostly Rayse's promises and he often twists the words more than outright violating an agreement, but the pattern is stark. It feels important.

There is something there about how a God breaking their promise would make them vulnerable and how keeping oaths is such an important tenet of Honor. It even ties in nicely with Nale's character arc of re-learning to uphold the spirit of a law rather then the letter.

I am not quite done yet, I might come back later and add my final thoughts. I just needed to get this out of my mind for now - journey before destination.

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Edit: Well, it is done. I think, I'm pretty much right on the money here.

There is Honor, who apparently cares only about the words of an oath, not the spirit, just like Taravangian. However, Honor has also been tasked by Dalinar to seek change in this regard specifically. That shall be interesting in the future.

Then there are the Radiant oaths and now the oaths of the Heralds, which have been established and re-affirmed again and again to draw their power from their meaning, not their words. Those, too, were from and for Honor.

Looking at Azir and the Listener colony, Retribution seems to have made good on his promises there at least somewhat. I am interested also in what happenes to Thaylenah and while I hope for the best, of course, I would certainly enjoy seeing Fen eat her words.

Spoilers for Star Wars, Episodes VII-IX, the Kingkiller Chrolicles (The Name of the Wind and A Wise Men's Fear) and Netflix's Wednesday, Season 1

I do not usually enjoy the Will They/Won't They trope very much, because most of the time, it is a foregone conclusion. These are the two hot main characters, of course they will. The stakes feel artificial, the complications forced.

Now, Unend has me at the edge of my seat, hoping desperately for Dot/Cleo to happen and at the same time not being sure at all that this is where we are heading. I am fascinated and surprised that Third Person managed to make me feel this way. I have thought about why that is and this is my conclusion.

I am no longer very young, I have enjoyed many stories and I cannot help noticing the themes and arcs in one. I can see the grid underneath, the bones, the threads and tropes. That is not usually a problem and quite often a feature. It means, however, that I will probably spot sooner or later where the story is going. If the story wants me to doubt myself, if it wants to keep me guessing, it needs to convince me on a deeper level. Just introducing a surface-level complication into the plot or the characters is not going to do the trick. I need to see both paths layed out in the bones, in the structure of the story, to be actually worried about the outcome.

In Unend, Third Person did exactly that. Key here is specifically the character arc of Dot. Their inner conflict has been carefully set up and two possible resolutions have been presented: overcoming their fear by achieving spiritual enlightenment and overcoming their fear by choosing love. At this point in the story, both arcs have equal weight to me, both I would deem satisfying. Both paths would eventally lead to a good story, so I cannot see which one we are on.

I just realized something.

Steve made his point about Cleo seeing Dot as a trophy and Dot is upset about that. I get it. It is not a nice thing to hear.

But. The issue is not that Cleo disrespected Dot, is it? It is not about them feeling objectified, at least not entirely.

The real problem for Dot here is that they are not as powerful as Cleo thinks they are. Steve made them believe that what Cleo likes about them is their power, and they are acutely aware that this power is pretense. In Dot's mind, Cleo's affection is now tied to their success as a Mother, the very thing they belive to be failing at.

This leaves Dot stranded with no way out. With surgical precision, Steve cut them off from the one safe alternative they had and trapped them in their own toxic mindset of needing to become a Mother at all costs. Conveniently, the only ally Dot has left in that space is Steve himself.

The scene between Artifice and Dot in Homeward was striking for many reasons, but I want to focus on the characterization of Dot that we get from it.

You remember well, I think, how, when confronted about their lies by Artifice, Dot completely falls apart. The situation would have supported many reactions, embarrassment or defensiveness for example, but instead, Dot begs for mercy. They obviously experience acute terror, a dread that, when looked at from a little distance, like us listeners do, seems a little unwarranted.

Sure, there was some ominous forshadowing, Cleo's conversation with Artifice and Dot's own dark thoughts about their destiny. However, whatever apprehension the listeners or Dot might have felt is instantly deconstructed by Artifice. He reassures Dot: They are in no danger. The Grandmothers know. Realization will find them, it is inevitable.

Where does that leave us with Dot's characterization, then? They seem to have a deep fear of failure, something that is indeed discussed by Artifice and Dot immediately after. They are anxious to an unhealthy degree, something we already know, having been privy to their private little panic attacks before.

Then Flashback rolls around and neatly recontextualizes this whole interpretation.

Dot lost their entire family to an epidemic. They were robbed of their whole support system, of everything physical and emotional a child needs to survive. They were saved by the Mothers who, purposefully or not, took on that responsability. They attached to the Mothers for support and for purpose in life.

And now, Dot is failing to become a true part of the Order, a true part of the family. They do not have what it takes to be a Mother. That does not merely mean failing to obtain power or even taking on a profession. To Dot, failing to become a Mother means loosing everything, as they know can and will happen, because it has happened before. They have experienced that terror, they have lived through it. When they begged with Artifice in Homeward, they begged for their life.

It is not real, of course, there is no harm coming Dot's way for failing to find Realization (I am eighty percent sure). But it feels real to them, not in expectation, but in memory. Dot's fear of failure now reads much more like a symptom of their fear of abandonment and their anxiety more like a response to trauma than to overstimulation.

What excites me about this are the story opportunities this opens up for Dot's relationship with Cleo. Before, I was torn over where this story would go. I could see both scenarios as conclusions to Dot's character arc, Mother Anxiety as well as DotCleo, with the caveat that ending up with Cleo would mean Dot had failed in overcoming their anxiety.

Now, there is great potential for the realization (!!) that belonging can be found elsewhere and that failing to become a Mother does not mean total abandonment. Being with Cleo now would mean that Dot had succeeded in overcoming their trauma.

Also: Is there an official ship name for Cleo and Dot?

Seriously. If you have not finished it or if you don't know what it is, please don't read this and go play it instead.

There is something about the Magnus Archives finale that I struggled to put my finger on, but I finally figured it out, I think.

Martin says he could not kill Jon, yet in the end, he does. Turns out, what he actually cannot do is leave him behind.

Jon says he could not unleash the Entities on an innocent, unsuspecting other dimension, yet in the end, he does. Turns out, what he actually cannot do is see Martin die.

Martin chooses killing Jon (and himself) ((probably)) over being lonely and Jon chooses being guilty over being made to watch. Thus, in this final moment of desperation, they both refuse the Entity that they served.

As a kid I really disliked this part. It felt manipulative to me, like a fake-out. I was rooting for a kiss, the whole scene made me expect it, only for them to withdraw at the last second and pretend to end the finale instead on a mere friendly hug. I remember distinctly saying out loud something along the line of 'oh, come on!' when I first watched it on TV (as one did back then - gosh, it's been a while, hasn't it).