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elriell · 3 years

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what are ur thoughts on eris, there seems to be a lot of chaos and seperation in the fandom atm... how'd you feel about his showing up in acosf?

This feels like a tricky question to answer, because opinions about this really do verge on the extreme of both sides. From what I have seen at least, and I definitely feel this has caused a great deal of division amongst fans of the series.

While I certainly didn’t expect an appearance of his character in ACOSF, I am not surprised in the slightest at a potential redemption. As soon as he made the comment about “not knowing what it cost him” in ACOWAR, I got major Rhysand flashbacks... And from the moment I read that chapter I felt SJM was going to go down the redemption arc path as she did with Rhys. (Assuming of course that is her plan.)

Because it is definitely her type of character and one she enjoys writing, example; Rhysand & Rowan.

So! We have a month before it releases so let’s talk about it all, good, bad and ugly, as always everyone is free to share their own opinions but can we keep it civil it is just a book after all and not reason to attack anyone, one view or another.

A big reason a find it so incredibly hard to answer this question is because I do dislike Eris for his actions, from what we have been told about him from day dot he is not written to be a likeable character. But here is where the big issue lies I feel like SJM is going to try and flip the table on us, as she has so many times before.

And at the end of the day we can either go with it, like for example people had to accept Rhys for his appalling behaviours in ACOTAR or ignore her attempt at a redemption ARC. [Up to you.]

And here is how I think it is going to go, I think she is going down the path of unreliable narration, I.E Lucien’s clouded view, and the IC views from Mor.

It would not be a shock to me at all, and we have seen very prominent example of this very thing between Feyre’s skewed POV to Nesta’s reality.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault that I was scarcely able to read. Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder sisters, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn’t bother to teach me.”

VS.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t really read,” Nesta said as she paused before a nondescript section, noticing the way I silently sounded out the words of a title. “I didn’t know where you were in your lessons—when it all happened. I assumed you could read as easily as us.”

“Well, I couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ask us to teach you?”

“I trailed a finger over the neat row of spines. “Because I doubted you would agree to help.”

This is a classic example of how unreliable narration can cause a massive perspective hinderance. Feyre made the audience believe her sisters did not care/want to teach her, yet they had no idea she was illiterate. And even further still she never even asked for help, she assumed what the answer would be, but the ripple effect of this is that we as readers will now go three books thinking this is a fact rather than her personal assumption.

“A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

The fact is we know very little about Eris, we are told what a rough childhood Lucien suffered at the hands of his family [Eris included] but then by that token the same should apply to Eris. We have so little information about his childhood, and about his character save for the opinions of Lucien and Mor (and company).

We have as a fandom touched on this time and time again, whether certain characters and actions are redeemable. Some people will stand by Rhysand’s actions in ACOTAR and others will find it unforgivable, the same applies for Nesta most commonly. But really it can apply to almost any of the characters in the series, Azriel tortures people, Cassian wiped out a whole village, and so on, I do not think that it is fair to criminally punish some characters above others IMO.

Now if you want to hate them all and stand by your feelings, go for it, To each their own, but everyone (or next too all) have done something highly questionable over the course of the series.

The people Rhys has killed, minds he has invaded. Azriel/Cassian’s victims, they were all someone too. They all had a potential partner, family, life, dreams & goals. But because we do not see or hear about them we are desensitised of it. We overlook it.

With Eris, we have two of his victims for lack of a better word, in front of us. Some readers love them, feel protective of them and therefore prioritise their POV over every other. Does that make sense? And that is fine.

Completely, everyone is entitled to enjoy or express their view however they see fit, but I personally do not want to demonise people for wanting to make a more informed opinion on a character and not shutting out the possibility of there being more to his story, for better or worse.

I do believe whole heartedly that nothing Eris has done is any worse than Rhysand and/or the IC, the only difference is he was raised in a crueler environment, amongst cruel people. As readers we sympathise with Az and Mor for their upbringing with good reason, because we know of it, yet condemn Eris when we scarcely know his.

A much larger can of worms is the question of culpability, and I have seen so many incredible meta’s about childhood trauma and it not being used as a excuse for toxic behaviours (mainly in respect to Nesta in this fandom) but I do think it is a important key to understanding the overall character... And note, I do not say like but rather understand/empathise with him more clearly, because right now I do not have any real compassion for him.

And as I said above all of them have done some fucked up shit, it is up to you as reader to decide for yourself whether you consider the particulars forgivable.

I could go on and on about the details and nuances of all his individual relationships but no one wants to read that, and me ramble on and on and on...

In summary, love him or hate him, he is in the next book. We just have to wait and see what SJM’s plan for him truly lies. Fo all we know he could still be an antagonist, but I highly doubt it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#i could go onnnnnn and on #but i shant #eris vanserra #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar #not really anti anyone tbf

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restlessmuseum · 6 years

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nomen amen (or “paraphernalia”: back by popular demand)

(where books compete for space with pottery)

We were already halfway through interminability. Away all redundancy of deficiency from the page, the tear from the past to mend us about to rampage. This far we had not said anything good but perfection required, in tone and content, inexplicable. (1) I found the crux in the posture to device, like an impostor happens in his tender, (2) a damage done like the wrapping paper of a ducked present. (3) Under the stance of unison, the shallower I read between the lines the further I'm improved from the time of my oversight, (4) the unison becomes the sound she phews down to my very being, like but the rest I forgot about... Sorry, got it wrong. Actually, I wanted to continue this something started spreads ago, but the prose screeches and cackles around its ineliminable inexactitude. I really don't feel like resuming anymore, or should I say, I'm done boggedly running after the end of my premises. Yes something happened, something to investigate in a whole other direction. So, gonna take all, this will be the first part. I wish I could express revolutionary philosophisms, I thought I could be a poet because I'm unable to be an essayist and a novelist. I'm not good at public speaking. I entered Tumblr to be found by publishers and make money: I had a system of truths and truly nothing else to say. Besides, what did this idea of klein Lebensdarbietung mean? Is the text doing its characters or are these ones setting out their own words? Text's abolition of today, which is nothing but "the sentences already written, the sentences that people say, the sentences yet to write; verses, words, spacings, texts' dissemination, whatever you want, about the purely sign-linguistic-textual" (cit.) verbatim et literatim, and here is another example of my strugglings to go on properly. In any event it is clear that we are moved when required, except the exempts. (5) It is always the most unexpected time to undergo the aha entanglement. In constant foresight I guiltily prepare to hindsee the neglect and with confambulatory prowess I succumb to the development in this underpass of construes. How much do we match with our sounds? — asking myself. In this respect I'm afraid to surprise me onstage like the surrenedered one (and here onpage, ah foolishness, as playwright). But if I leaf compulsively through hundreds of pages, that's to find my words not belonging to me, and the others to fight (me) with. As I am nearing the open conversation, I make up my mind never to read me. Tons of notes, reproaches and scratchpads. Tons of work to do. And I have to get rid of the old adjustments once and for all. (6) Electra the yet-signed. You like the simple words, the ones you recognize already written, the crystalline syllabification that enoculates the wholeness of an order babbling sibyllinity downstream. You carry on with the work of literature: how the body absconds at the risk of space and time with them. Imperfect doubling, mirror images, and repetition in her practice. Topical scratches. Interceptors sought in everyday life — like unspeakables — that she then distorts to create the straight path in reverse. Poetry will not touch her, because poetry is just the unwritten complexity going wrong side along the process of self-becoming, a recent installation, midway between marble and corporal desires in an ascending scale of hardness. (7) Listening to the closest friends, the process of self-becoming could only linger primarily in the sight of aesthetic, then morality, then religious status quo. But friends come always as a closer, blind alley, at the end of tears: a misunderstanding at first, then never read enough. (8) It is often the case that the practice of consensually agreeing to one's own mental performance and self-image by means of meddled languages and lineages may become a genuine bondage of freedom. The restrained partner can derive any drift in the set of possibilities so that we use to say the doing is more important than the outcome. (9) The doing is in uncomfortable or painful positions, for example as a punishment: then, easily it tends to be forgotten, because unforgivable. That's why the effect is the same as a verbal collage, but 1) rips are often behind schedule or on borrowed time, "out of sync with the fade" (cit.) hearth of what seems to be the Pentecostal tongues of fire; and 2) metaphors like "the rope of telephone charades" or "the coils of something wound in the form of a revolution to come is the licking of sugar injury, met since the starting point" are not allowed. "Real me is way more concerned with" (cit.) the Transcaspian line that follows the pattern of a crosswording of the desert. (10) Rather than holding on to me tight I choose to distance myself from what I'm being forced to watch daily. Dies irae dies illa desirable. Without prejudice to this last inescapable point, the first issue represents the Derridean crux of the matter, about which I will be saying something bad in the wrongest moments, since my voice is as effective as my unsuccessful rewrites. I just want, by using the instruction books, the border of this drama, accelerated and hence trespassed in time into ridiculousness, to be experienced as the comedy it is. There is a hour of the wolf and there is a hour the wolf is afraid of. When the time is right I'd like you all to be safe to be spared in my turn from this construction beyond good and better. (11) Here you shine white with noise. "Sonorous cobweb" (cit.) made of only one thread, the unbent line of homeostasis at long last kept in crisis. (12) This narration should have had a different common thread. "And yet", imprint, "it moves" (cit.) as sensible prose. Prose of proses. The dispelled thing, spilled on Tumblr, disseminated. The seedbed: descendants, everspring off, family. The planting postdisposed. All going as planned. (13) When I know that I don't know where to start a carving, I start a list of synonyms or unyoke a fable from a series of rereadings. What excommunication if you can't subvert the strainer? (14) Once upon a time Electra, beloved only sign of her father, has a brother. Agamemnon possesses the actuality and practicality of the dead: he wants to see water circulate water in laminar rheumatology and freshness sculptures out of tempered air. [director's note: the Argolis' scene isn't even entitled to melt!]. She eats anise candies and unwarmed foods without a problem. She is so lovely when she urinates first thing in the morning, holding the head in her hands, graeaean ownership. Yes, I'm worthy of attending to the offertory on the altar of love. So many congratulations against my behalf that the opposite seems true. (15) "A woman with long hair is not a simple point of view" (cit.). She's got a prompt night's sleep and reasonable. We cling to angelic accidents. We are clung to our soundtrack. (16) Indeed love is not "the panic subsidence onto the body" (cit.) [director's note: can we let the body become finally soaked in real pornography and never mind, here?] but sheer faith for a symbolic subject who's shattered fully loyal. Intermediate sprint of a life midpoint crossroads that lead at the same destination to flee from. (17) Because, as it goes, her staple is such a volitive confidence meaning to me the wait of the powers that created us, the coincidence of both of us makes our skewness on my side of the derangement. Averted word, when addressed. I am a bad Greek at the time of Christianity and a bad Christian on such dysfunctional divertissements. Who knows how ethically important it is today? I retain it, ending up forgetting everything else, and am lookin' very bad. (18) Of course the movement is diminished in certain directions; the style more flattened upon my chosen sickness that we now have no use for, after the setting of the starting stances; I suffer from more severe erections. An acquired kurtosis distributes my monodimensional remarks as the fourth cumulants in order of precedence. Still a lot of exercise to get. Busy like the evermentioned forgettables I'm at that stage where it's difficult for me to even do difficult things. Wrongstaged, I can't compete. I only challenge. (19) Therefore coincident like the two norths of which one is sinking liminal in the perfectly unsaid of your perfect cues. In one fell swoop you pone the part and mastery. And in the next. And the apnea for the answer back. Teeth gouged by the opposite of words in formation for a smile. The winky face par excellence. Here's the real spectator of my vocalized character. I wedge the self with a puny malapropistic idioticon to spread now that I'm a simplex person. As long as I continue to improve in (furtive, it has to be) apprenticeship I'm losing abilities. Old mistakes reappear, no inspiration from mumpsimuses. (20) Where adults flutter, she, disemvowelled and free from frills, spoken by the plural to be inscribed in the Sophoclean, in the Euripidean, in the Hofmannsthalean, in the Yourcenarian script, lost in tv shows and blatant phone calls, is, for me, abused of notations but who am I to denounce such an effusive happiness? There's nothing she can't Netflix. (21) No banana peel on the slope of her singularity — reversible up to a point, interchangeable up to a point, genderbending up to a point from the same side of view. Slotting minims in the same tone as the main characters. That the same out-of-turness is imbricated. (22)

Virtuosity was painlessly flaying the secret from the kids. This is tragedy. We all know what everyone should have said, sorrows come only after. We see each other for sure and too well. Find your trace in the deep of your prompter's heart. Dimmable glow of ancient times. Under guillotine percentages, under curtain at half-mast, under the veils in the dance of the seven veils. What am I trying to say? (23)

In the floodlights' gloom, without changing the rules of the game, exit khorós. With whom would you listen to you speaking? (24) Woods of brightness wherever, it makes me want to expect your coming deaf-handed right therever, the braindomed untrodden order of phrases where roommouths around it are opening. (25) A substratum, but rather as two shadows they finally vest themselves without amendment, and just drag on this semi-detached ward where it just doesn't feel like our theater anymore. So that there may well be the laetum and lethean occurrence of a new polarization. (26) It is no coincidence that here you're always cold and pale. What a cutie! (27) But maybe that's just too much information. Now would be the time to shut up even more. Already being in the manner for that: being at one with the template versus falling back into the patient subjectivity to agency, to make war and to make love with the weapons of the unconditional surrender. The book is that inferring the timbre of each Klagesprache. (28) Like the current situation could return to equilibrium because of an indefinite vocabulary which is still fighting us pressurers. We come across the unilaterality of it every day. Its constitution. (29) But infinity alive doesn't exist. We can approximate it in the endless rummaging and musing. (30) Approximation is worth nothing. We get sick for the words that once beguiled us. The limits of infancy don't set. And now I just -ess the world in voluntary silence nonexperienced. (31) With plex I brux my certainty and centuries. Party time abounds. (32) Clause: applause. (33)

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