Phillip Marlowe
Carmen Sternwood -- pulls wings off flies
Vivian - Mrs. Regan -- calculating, smart
Objectivity, distance as detective model
Maid, cleaning up rich people's lives, tidy morally? maybe not… observer being complicit in the crime… what is his motivation to do this job? doesn't enjoy it much, not getting highly compensated. is marlowe good or bad? Ambivalent?
Vivian cares a lot about… something? Carmen is "naked" always, maybe? Isn't suited for the world she lives in.
Brody and Eddie Mars we've met once each… each is a themed color,
"Doghouse Riley": a reference to something? made up name. "dog house" as in "jail" and "riley" as in "irish", "justice/cops". Repetition. Reassuring himself, defying other people's labels.
Carmen as in the opera. Tragic figure. Wholly objectified. Insane. Unpredictable. Body and emotions, but no brain.
Vivian as in… ? Defined by her missing husband. "Mrs. Regan." Intentional? Manipulative. Brains, veiled emotions. Mannish? Emulating men?
Agnes… silver claws. Blonde, relies on Brody entirely, animal-like in viciousness and loyalty. Not big in brains. Almost Brody's pet. Outraged and offended.
Women are very flat. Women=sexuality=shallow? None of them are old, only one them is actively helpful and she only exists for one page (28).
After the break is a synopsis of what we've read so far. If you're interested in reading or... something, then don't read it! Spoilers and all that.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
NaNoWriMo 2011, Day 3, part 2
There was a stone path through the flowers and herbs and vegetables growing in profusion near the road. The path led to a strange cottage that appeared to be a greatly oversized snail shell half buried in the ground. There was a roughly circular hole for the door, sealed by a thick leather curtain. Holes shimmered along the top of each whorl, quartz windows reflecting sunlight filtered through the tall trees of the forest.
The Witch led Pieder along the path and into her strange home. He spent the day following her about and learning the tasks he must do. Most were familiar things, like washing the dishes and sweeping the floor. But getting the water consisted of lifting a lever, since the water ran through veins all over the house and could be poured into sinks and buckets in several rooms. One chamber, for the rooms were too open and strangely shaped for Pieder to think of them as boring everyday rooms, seemed to be an indoor outhouse, which struck Pieder as intensely disgusting. Oddly, it had almost no odor despite being a place of filth. Another seemed to be reserved for cooking. The strangely snail-like house had a root cellar of sorts, indoor plumbing, and a minimal amount of electricity to run various contraptions about the house. One of the chief contraptions thus run seemed to both provide a way from rapidly drying clothes and heating the whole dwelling.
There was a chamber, almost a hallway between the outhouse chamber and the front room chamber, that had a cot set to one side and a small dresser with two drawers carefully cleaned and empty. It appeared to be his bedchamber. He placed his small bag on the cot and glanced at the Witch, who was paused for him. She gestured for him to place the items in his bad into the dresser. He removed a single change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a book of fairy stories his parents had given him for his tenth birthday. He also had mittens, a jacket, a pair of longjohns, and a wool hat. All of this he was wearing at the moment over and under the rest of his clothing, and he was sweating heavily. He removed everything except his shirt, pants, and longjohns and carefully folded it away in what he assumed must now be his dresser. He had never had his own dresser before. It was strangely pleasant.
The first night he spent in the Witch's abode was terrifying. Her home smelled faintly of lavender, probably propagated by the various sachets and sprays of lavender that hung about the house. Peider's home, or rather his parents' and sisters' home now that he no longer lived there, smelled of woodsmoke and various cooked foods and drying vegetables.
The Witch led Pieder along the path and into her strange home. He spent the day following her about and learning the tasks he must do. Most were familiar things, like washing the dishes and sweeping the floor. But getting the water consisted of lifting a lever, since the water ran through veins all over the house and could be poured into sinks and buckets in several rooms. One chamber, for the rooms were too open and strangely shaped for Pieder to think of them as boring everyday rooms, seemed to be an indoor outhouse, which struck Pieder as intensely disgusting. Oddly, it had almost no odor despite being a place of filth. Another seemed to be reserved for cooking. The strangely snail-like house had a root cellar of sorts, indoor plumbing, and a minimal amount of electricity to run various contraptions about the house. One of the chief contraptions thus run seemed to both provide a way from rapidly drying clothes and heating the whole dwelling.
There was a chamber, almost a hallway between the outhouse chamber and the front room chamber, that had a cot set to one side and a small dresser with two drawers carefully cleaned and empty. It appeared to be his bedchamber. He placed his small bag on the cot and glanced at the Witch, who was paused for him. She gestured for him to place the items in his bad into the dresser. He removed a single change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a book of fairy stories his parents had given him for his tenth birthday. He also had mittens, a jacket, a pair of longjohns, and a wool hat. All of this he was wearing at the moment over and under the rest of his clothing, and he was sweating heavily. He removed everything except his shirt, pants, and longjohns and carefully folded it away in what he assumed must now be his dresser. He had never had his own dresser before. It was strangely pleasant.
The first night he spent in the Witch's abode was terrifying. Her home smelled faintly of lavender, probably propagated by the various sachets and sprays of lavender that hung about the house. Peider's home, or rather his parents' and sisters' home now that he no longer lived there, smelled of woodsmoke and various cooked foods and drying vegetables.
NaNoWriMo 2011, Day 3, part 1
Pieder's tossing and turning slowly stilled, and after almost half an hour the string slipped back out of his nose. It lay quiescent on his chest, just a string and nothing more. Laurinda shivered, horrified and scared. The old woman took a scrap of cloth from a pocket and used it to lift the string. As soon as the cloth touched it, an eerie melody began to fill the silent cottage. The old woman nodded and turned to the couple with a faint smile on her hideous face.
She placed the string and cloth back into one of her pockets, then pantomimed money dropping from one hand into the other. The parents glanced at each other uncertainly.
"You want payment?" Douglas asked.
The old woman nodded.
"We don't have much money," Douglas said.
The old woman waved a hand dismissively.
"You want something else?"
The old woman nodded. She pointed a stubbed finger at the boy.
"Yes we want you to heal him," Douglas said, perplexed. He had thought this was clear already from the way the old woman has been checking the boy over.
The old woman frowned and pantomimed money once more, then pointed to the boy.
"You want... Pieder as payment?" Laurinda gasped.
She placed the string and cloth back into one of her pockets, then pantomimed money dropping from one hand into the other. The parents glanced at each other uncertainly.
"You want payment?" Douglas asked.
The old woman nodded.
"We don't have much money," Douglas said.
The old woman waved a hand dismissively.
"You want something else?"
The old woman nodded. She pointed a stubbed finger at the boy.
"Yes we want you to heal him," Douglas said, perplexed. He had thought this was clear already from the way the old woman has been checking the boy over.
The old woman frowned and pantomimed money once more, then pointed to the boy.
"You want... Pieder as payment?" Laurinda gasped.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
NaNoWriMo 2011, Day 2, part 2
The old woman nodded once more, then gently set the string down onto the sleeping boy. It writhed to an uncanny life, and Laurinda screeched in horror. The witch put up a silencing hand, and Douglas caught Laurinda in his arms before she could rush to her son's side. "Hush, you'll wake the girls," he mumured.
"Mama? What's wrong?" a small voice asked, still filled with sleep.
Lucy, seven years old and still half asleep, knelt beside the bannister of the cottage's loft. She held the hand of four year old Rosalind tightly enough that Rosalind whined and tried to pull away.
"Everything's fine, girls," Douglas said firmly.
"Mama?" Lucy repeated uncertainly.
"Yes, everything's fine. Go back to bed. It's late," Laurinda murmured, entranced by the writhing string making it's way towards her beloved boy's nostrils. She gasped and flinched when the string wormed its way up his nose and slipped out of view into Pieder's insides. Lucy and Rosalind stared unabashedly and the old woman in their home, but obeyed their parents and went back to lay in bed. They whispered together, Lucy shushing Rosalind and providing the comfort that her parents were too terrified to offer.
1,700 words out of 50,000 total.
"Mama? What's wrong?" a small voice asked, still filled with sleep.
Lucy, seven years old and still half asleep, knelt beside the bannister of the cottage's loft. She held the hand of four year old Rosalind tightly enough that Rosalind whined and tried to pull away.
"Everything's fine, girls," Douglas said firmly.
"Mama?" Lucy repeated uncertainly.
"Yes, everything's fine. Go back to bed. It's late," Laurinda murmured, entranced by the writhing string making it's way towards her beloved boy's nostrils. She gasped and flinched when the string wormed its way up his nose and slipped out of view into Pieder's insides. Lucy and Rosalind stared unabashedly and the old woman in their home, but obeyed their parents and went back to lay in bed. They whispered together, Lucy shushing Rosalind and providing the comfort that her parents were too terrified to offer.
1,700 words out of 50,000 total.
NaNoWriMo 2011, Day 1 and Day 2
Pieder lived in a forest with his mother, Laurinda, and his father, Douglas, and his two younger sisters, Lucy and Rosalind. His father's father's father had first built the small stone house that they inhabited, and his grandfather had expanded it with logs. Pieder's father had spent every spring since his first child was born replacing the logs with stone fit together just so, so as to prevent wind from slipping through any cracks. Pieder was really the second child in the family, but his older brother Frederick had died of the pox when Pieder was five and Frederick was eight. It had been a devastating blow to Pieder's parents, and they had never been the same since. Pieder dimly recalled when the house was a warm and welcoming place, but his younger sisters had no such recollections and occasionally Pieder felt sorry for them. He would have spent more time feeling sorry for them, but he spent most of his life incredibly busy. There was bark to strip off of the logs his father cut, and fur to clean and the house to be swept and tools to be mended. All the small chores of the house besides knitting and spinning and weaving and churning butter were delegated to Pieder. He didn't mind too much, except that he longed to have some time to spend wandering the secret paths of the forest and encountering witches and wizards and gnomes and the like. Fairy stories told by Laurinda had taken a fierce hold upon the boy, and nothing Douglas said could shake Pieder's certainty that some secret magic lay just beneath the surface of his entire life.
Pieder grew fairly peacfully to be eleven years old, with a seven and four year old sister to plague him any time they were free and he was working (which happened far too often for Pieder's taste). But shortly after his birthday, on the eve of Midsummer's Day, he fell ill with a terrible fever. His mother made poultices and remedies that generations of woodsfolk had learned. Some were to reduce the awful aches and pains that raced from joint to joint. Some were to bring down the fever itself. And some were to keep evil away and attract friendly spirits to protect and heal the young boy.
Nothing worked. The second night he became delirious. On the morning of the third day, Pieder's mother begged Douglas to seek out the Witch of the Wood, a superstition with unusual staying power amongst the local folk. Pieder's father, certain of failure and without an ounce of hope, reluctantly agreed. He did this act not out of love for his son, whom he was certain was destined for death within hours, but for love of his wife who would never rest unless no effort had been spared to save her beloved child. With the death of Frederick, the house had been filled with anger, regret, and recrimination. Pieder's father was determined that Pieder's death would not come so close to destroying his family.
Pieder grew fairly peacfully to be eleven years old, with a seven and four year old sister to plague him any time they were free and he was working (which happened far too often for Pieder's taste). But shortly after his birthday, on the eve of Midsummer's Day, he fell ill with a terrible fever. His mother made poultices and remedies that generations of woodsfolk had learned. Some were to reduce the awful aches and pains that raced from joint to joint. Some were to bring down the fever itself. And some were to keep evil away and attract friendly spirits to protect and heal the young boy.
Nothing worked. The second night he became delirious. On the morning of the third day, Pieder's mother begged Douglas to seek out the Witch of the Wood, a superstition with unusual staying power amongst the local folk. Pieder's father, certain of failure and without an ounce of hope, reluctantly agreed. He did this act not out of love for his son, whom he was certain was destined for death within hours, but for love of his wife who would never rest unless no effort had been spared to save her beloved child. With the death of Frederick, the house had been filled with anger, regret, and recrimination. Pieder's father was determined that Pieder's death would not come so close to destroying his family.
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