It sounds like Aeneas has a case of Very Special and Spesh Mary-Sue Specialness. Oh dear.
The Firebrand is Marion Zimmer Bradley's molestation of the Trojan War to make it over into feminist girl power mystic woman empowerment novel where men have emotions but also, for the most part, suck. Like she did to King Arthur with The Mists of Avalon. Naturally, I love it like whoa.
Okay, see. Now you've opened up the sore point. I went to speech and drama this evening and we watched a documentary on the beginnings of Great Britain, done by that Simon Schama whose tics give *me* a tic. We watched this because, through faults of our schooling and our studying for drama, we've only ever looked at English literature starting from about the Renaissance and not at any other literature at all. I'm not complaining about that, because that's just what the syllabus is from Trinity College and also the Australian drama colleges, so whatever, but *I* can piece it all together. No one else seemed to, and it drove. me. crazy. I had to be Knowledge Girl when really I don't know much, I just do this stuff at uni and remember a fair bit from high school history. How do people not realise that not everyone speaks English? That there's been civilisation, as such, for thousands of years? That there was literature before there was English? Why do people ask so many damn questions instead of just going and reading a book?! HONESTLY. How do they think *I* learned anything? I READ ABOUT IT.
Anyway. Penguin has a bunch of translated Icelandic sagas and I'm sure they're relatively cheap. You could have my two because I can't get past: "Here is the blood money for your cousin." "I keel you now. Here is the blood money." "You're so dead. Blood money. Now we are even." "Not if I kill you in revenge! Mwahahaha! Yes, alright, blood money."
Or I could borrow some from stalky-prof -- he's loaned me half of his library already.
no subject
The Firebrand is Marion Zimmer Bradley's molestation of the Trojan War to make it over into feminist girl power mystic woman empowerment novel where men have emotions but also, for the most part, suck. Like she did to King Arthur with The Mists of Avalon. Naturally, I love it like whoa.
Okay, see. Now you've opened up the sore point. I went to speech and drama this evening and we watched a documentary on the beginnings of Great Britain, done by that Simon Schama whose tics give *me* a tic. We watched this because, through faults of our schooling and our studying for drama, we've only ever looked at English literature starting from about the Renaissance and not at any other literature at all. I'm not complaining about that, because that's just what the syllabus is from Trinity College and also the Australian drama colleges, so whatever, but *I* can piece it all together. No one else seemed to, and it drove. me. crazy. I had to be Knowledge Girl when really I don't know much, I just do this stuff at uni and remember a fair bit from high school history. How do people not realise that not everyone speaks English? That there's been civilisation, as such, for thousands of years? That there was literature before there was English? Why do people ask so many damn questions instead of just going and reading a book?! HONESTLY. How do they think *I* learned anything? I READ ABOUT IT.
Anyway. Penguin has a bunch of translated Icelandic sagas and I'm sure they're relatively cheap. You could have my two because I can't get past:
"Here is the blood money for your cousin."
"I keel you now. Here is the blood money."
"You're so dead. Blood money. Now we are even."
"Not if I kill you in revenge! Mwahahaha! Yes, alright, blood money."
Or I could borrow some from stalky-prof -- he's loaned me half of his library already.