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#catholic fiction
ffcrazy15 · 1 year
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Me trying to read normal Catholic fiction after being a Shūsaku Endō fangirl for five years:
“Hang on– where’s the respectable professor with an unmentionable kink and a secret double-life? Where’s the WWII doctor who committed war crimes? I see we have a priest, but is his 'piety’ not actually a shallow coverup for his own pride and self-sufficiency? When will we get to the hospital scenes?!”
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Inkling Challenge, Oct. 2022!
I’m late to the party because I’ve been very sick. I’m TEAM TOLKIEN. I am so excited! Thanks for the assignment @inklings-challenge :-)
From the Inklings Challenge Page: “Members of Team Tolkien are challenged to write a science fiction or fantasy story within the Christian worldview that fits in at least one of the following two categories:
Secondary World Fantasy: Stories that takes place in an imaginary realm that’s completely separate from our world
Time Travel: Stories exploring travel through time
Secondary world fantasy is my JAM, so I am  opting for that category. I’m ready to brainstorm! Wish me luck :-D
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tonreihe · 19 days
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protagonistspub · 9 months
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MarkMaker by Mary Jessica Woods
MarkMaker by Mary Jessica Woods is Catholic science fiction. It is published by Chrism Press and this is her debut novel. I finished this book more than two weeks ago now and I still don’t know how to review it. Just to be clear, before this turns into a rambling review, I enjoyed this book very much. It makes you think. What it makes you think is something I am still attempting to…
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an aesthetic for a short story i'm writing because i am trying to write it and it is the quite hard to do properly
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Mary prays the rosary for my broken mind.
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I watch the work of my kin, bold and boyful Toying somewhere between love and abuse Calling to join them, the wretched and joyful Shaking the wings of their terrible youths
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Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion No more alone or myself could I be Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open No shortage of sordid, no protest from me
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He has made my skin and my flesh grow old     and has broken my bones. He has besieged me and surrounded me     with bitterness and hardship.
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He has made me dwell in darkness     like those long dead
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I'll deny you of salvation I'll be the reason you repent Kiss me like I'm a conviction Beg for divinity in my breath
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Watching the figures, all the saints, but mostly sinners come and go And some are desperate, but the others have the sense that they do belong And I do not belong
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What I wouldn't give to be in church this Sunday Listening to the choir so heartfelt, all singing "God loves you, but not enough to save you" So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself
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Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and 'Domine non sum dignus' should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.
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Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little.
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Body Electric, by Lana Del Rey //Angel Of Small Death and the Codeine Scene, by Hozier // Lamentations 3:4-6 // salvation, by Christabelle Marbun // notre dame, by Paris Paloma // Sun-Bleached Flies, by Ethel Cain // De Profundis, by Oscar Wilde // Luke 7:47 //
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puutterings · 1 year
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inaccurate fingers; desire so dreary
  a perverse fancy for twilight, for puttering about with straining eyes and inaccurate fingers in the dusk 1 silently puttering about after her, drove Kate almost to despair 2 eagerly, clumsily puttering about in his desire 3
— these three instances, in Little Ships, A Novel by Kathleen Norris (1925) : link their fuller contexts (and links to hathitrust scan) below —  
1 Her grandmother was in the kitchen, crooning like an old sorceress over the preparation of coffee and eggs for Harry. Harry had a night-watchman’s job at the moment, and consequently slept all afternoon. Mrs. Walsh, and Maggie too, had a perverse fancy for twilight, for puttering about with straining eyes and inaccurate fingers in the dusk, and Kate’s first move to-night, as usually, was to flash on the lights. p 293 : link
2 Two or three days of Lizzie, silently puttering about after her, drove Kate almost to despair. Lizzie made herself useful, and was sweet, if silent and timid, with the children. Her bony, cool hands were always ready to help Kate with bed-making, with raking, with little meals, or little bathing-suits.       But she was so dreary... p 381 : link
this from chapter 27, in which it comes out that Lizzie hadn’t known what marriage involved — sexually — had taken a vow, finds intimacy distasteful, prefers to sleep separately from her husband. —
      “I tell you I didn’t know anything, and it’s my affair and Martin’s anyway, Kate!” Lizzie said, goaded into anger. “Mama was never one to talk about marriage and babies and all that,” she continued, in a slightly more conciliatory and faintly apologetic tone. “And there was no one else I could talk to. For all I knew, babies came ——” She paused. “For all I knew, men ——” she began again and paused again.       Kate knew that the indication of utter and virgin ignorance was true. Lizzie had probably known as much of marriage, upon her wedding day, as upon the day of her birth. Such subjects were utterly unknown, in the clean, pious, gentle circle of her early years. The aged mother would have been morally, mentally, yes, and even physically unable to mention them to her daughter. Books touching upon them, conversation through which they might become familiar, were abhorrent to purity like this.       Lizzie had taught primary grades all her life. But there was nothing in that well-thumbed little curriculum of greatest common divisor and Spencerian loops to open her eyes. She had very probably come to Mart, Kate reflected, believing vaguely that the laws of calm logic and dispassionate decision would regulate her married as her single life.       “Oh, yes, I told him, the day of Mama’s funeral, when he wanted to marry me right off,” Lizzie answered. And Kate detected a pathetic note of relief in her voice, as if whe were glad to be speaking, even of the unspeakable, at last. “I told him I’d taken a vow, when I was confirmed,” she pursued, “that married or single, I’d preserve— I’d do what I told you—”       “How old were you when you were confirmed?”       “I was twelve.”       “Yes, and how much did you know about life?”       “Well, nothing, I suppose,” Lizzie conceded. “But I read about plenty of the Saints that did that.”       “You mean married, and then lived a single life?” “Well, yes,” said Lizzie, and fell into a mild silence, a silence that had something almost triumphant in it, as if she had proved her point. “My own saint did that,” she added, contentedly.       “Yes, but after she’d had four children!”       “Well, that wouldn’t make any difference,” Lizzie said, with a look of surprise.       “But, Lizzie, what about your marriage vow? The vow of an ignorant little girl of twelve amounts to nothing, you weren’t even legally of age then! But the vow of a woman, who solemnly swears——”       “But Martin understood the whole of it, and agreed, beside my mother’s coffin, that he’d let me have the say of it!” the other woman argued, readily.       “A lot he knew about it!” Kate muttered, confirmed by this remark in an old belief that Martin’s youth had been as strangely innocent and protected as that of his wife, and convinced that his utter ignorance of the ways of woman was at least partly accountable for the whole state of affairs.       There was a look of serene and stubborn fanaticism in Lizzie’s eye; Kate knew that look... pp 383-384 : link
3       But now Rob had started for Los Angeles to attend a conference, and Ellen said that somehow she had felt homesick for Mama. So here they all were, and Mollie was ecstatically happy padding about making them welcome...       “Well, then, I’m going to telephone John, and we’ll stay, too,” Kate stated, firmly, and felt a little twinge of heartache at beholding her uncle’s look of deep satisfaction.       “Do that, Kate. That’s what the big place is for!” said Peter, eagerly, clumsily puttering about in his desire to prove how welcome they were.       Mollie sent a careful message to the kitchen... p 412 : link  
comments
Little Ships is a story of an Irish — Irish Catholic — family “in trouble.” See Ann C. Rose, Beloved Strangers: Interfaith Families in Nineteenth-century America (2001) : link (snippets and longer passages)
The novel was serialized in at least one Catholic newspaper. A portion of chapter 30 (containing the long extract above, re: absence of conjugal relations) ran in The Catholic Transcript (Hartford, Connecticut; Thursday, April 25, 1929) : 8 : link for all mentions of Little Ships therein, see search results : link
The title of the novel comes from the song that concludes it — “So all the little ships come sailing home across the sea, Their voyage safely ended, their way they’ve wended       Home where they would be...” p441 : link
Kathleen Norris (1880-1966) was a much-read and published novelist and journalist of her time. wikipedia : link She is treated at some length in the second edition of Grant Overton, his The Women Who Make Our Novels (1928) : 227-242 : link
See also her Noon : An Autobiographical Sketch (1925) : link
Kathleen Norris has — inexplicably — not appeared earlier in this project: the word “puttering” appears in several of her works.  
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kiisaes · 9 months
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what to do about aubrey's hair...? (catholic school au)
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swordanddaggerarts · 4 months
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fuckingwhateverdude · 4 months
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1.16.24
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fictionadventurer · 6 months
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I have a germ of a theory that good Christian fiction has stories that are less about shaving down your personality to meet some specific mold of what a good Christian looks like, and more about "how gloriously different are all the saints."
Not that the Christian life doesn't involve fighting against our own sinful nature and conforming ourselves to Christ-like behavior, but I think it makes for better, more realistic, and more universal stories when you also recognize that people have different gifts and flaws and they're going to be called to use their unique personalities to serve the kingdom of God in their own unique way, instead of assuming everyone has to conform themselves to a very specific (often secular-culturally based) image of good behavior. It makes for a much more vibrant story.
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barbieaemond · 3 months
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Being in the Ewan fandom with the sole purpose of creating and sharing is not stressful, at all
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symbiotic-slime · 1 month
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me when the media has a fucked up (ex) catholic in it
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raayllum · 6 months
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one thing i think about the ghosting (that i allude to sometimes in my fic and given garlaath's existence as a concept) is not only the cultural trauma that rayla carries, but also the possible religious trauma. if you're ghosted, it would stand to follow that moonshadow elves don't believe you get to reunite with your village / loved ones in an afterlife. it's a complete shunning where they metaphorically (and somewhat literally) kill you if you refuse to die of your own accord in the line of duty. if you're ghosted, do you go to hell? does rayla already think she's damned on that level, and adds another level to thinking she'll never see runaan and ethari again? just something to think about
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layzeal · 7 months
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bitching abt the poll scroll this is SO stupid but i'm mad
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ok this isnt about ship wars or whatever but these tags are making me laugh because "how could wlw fics of two originally male characters be BETTER than a CW queerbaiting sapphic couple" my guy, because those fics were actually written by lesbians
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protagonistspub · 10 months
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Adrift by Rhonda Ortiz
Adrift by Rhonda Ortiz is the second novel in the Molly Chase series. It is Catholic historical fiction. The novel begins immediately after In Pieces ended, there is no time gap and thus the novels cannot be read out of order. Molly and Josiah are newly engaged, Josiah is contemplating becoming an intelligencer, and all of Boston is aflutter about what transpired at the Warren’s dinner party.…
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knightsickness · 11 months
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‘how do you like criston after he called rhaenyra a cunt’ i wanted to fuck jaime after he tried to kill that child. genuinely what show do you think we’re watching. let hot guys kill evilly
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