three (
threeplusfire) wrote2010-09-13 01:04 pm
Entry tags:
sacred country
So many things to say, but I feel everything fly out of my head each time I sit down to write them. We left the house yesterday because I couldn't stand the silence in my own head and it was a good thing because an electrical substation just north of us caught on fire and all the power went out in the area. We got to spend a good evening hanging out with Stacy & Eric, eating sandwiches and watching Riff Tracks. I'm not sure I can scrub my brain enough to get rid of the utterly moronic mess that was The Happening. But I really loved the guys singing about pork and apparently people used to think it was a good idea to wash clothes in gasoline at home!
A couple days ago I read Sacred Country by Rose Tremain. This is a fascinating story about Martin Ward and his struggle to find his way back to the right body. I suppose after a lifetime spent reading science fiction and fantasy it doesn't seem so hard for me to relate to someone living in a completely different time and setting than my own. Martin is born as Mary and grows up on a farm in the English countryside. When the story started shifting perspectives to other family members and even other people living in the village, my first reaction was "No, no, no, I need to be with Mary/Martin." I didn't want to have to empathize with the drunk father or the awful little sibling. But I found it gave me a fuller picture of Martin, and Martin's world, without forcing me into some painful reconciliation with the others. In the end I was glad for it, because it allowed the story to happen.
There's a lot of sadness and missed things, a lot of cruelty to the life in the pages. But it comes round to something like peace and a greater sense of happiness.
Reading Sacred Country has made me think about what I want for myself.
A couple days ago I read Sacred Country by Rose Tremain. This is a fascinating story about Martin Ward and his struggle to find his way back to the right body. I suppose after a lifetime spent reading science fiction and fantasy it doesn't seem so hard for me to relate to someone living in a completely different time and setting than my own. Martin is born as Mary and grows up on a farm in the English countryside. When the story started shifting perspectives to other family members and even other people living in the village, my first reaction was "No, no, no, I need to be with Mary/Martin." I didn't want to have to empathize with the drunk father or the awful little sibling. But I found it gave me a fuller picture of Martin, and Martin's world, without forcing me into some painful reconciliation with the others. In the end I was glad for it, because it allowed the story to happen.
There's a lot of sadness and missed things, a lot of cruelty to the life in the pages. But it comes round to something like peace and a greater sense of happiness.
Reading Sacred Country has made me think about what I want for myself.

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Poor Martin. That moment with Pearl was the saddest, saddest thing.
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"Poor Martin. That moment with Pearl was the saddest, saddest thing."
And he's saying "precious thing" like he always thought of her and she's screaming back that she isn't a thing and I can totally understand why she's saying it, even as she misapprehends him, and--God. Just absolutely awful.
BTW, I thought it was sort of a brilliant touch that Martin's girlfriend, the agony aunt, could be so sensitive and compassionate when she thought "the transsexual" she was advising was a stranger, and then lose it completely to find out he wasn't. It just felt really real.
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The part where Timothy rats out Martin on the bandages killed me. I wanted to punch him right through the book.
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I think I remember your writing about that a while back. :-( I'm fortunate enough not to have experienced stuff like that firsthand but, the book was still so visceral and real that I sure as hell felt it while I was reading.
"The part where Timothy rats out Martin on the bandages killed me. I wanted to punch him right through the book."
I just kept thinking, "Timothy, he will kill Martin, HE WILL KILL MARTIN AND IT'LL BE ON YOUR HEAD." (Not that I think that would even have registered with Saint Timothy, he's one of those types where everything he does is always someone else's fault.) I was really scared when the father tracked Martin down to that schoolteacher's house.