My Yuletide recipient has commented, phew. This was a new-to-me person, so unlike the last few years, I had no idea what their reaction would be, and they wrote lovely, detailed feedback. Hooray! Have a few more recs:

A Dangerous Man: Lawrence after Arabia:

Not for this Age by Five: a elegantly written "Five things...." about T.E. Lawrence and Prince (later King) Feisal. (BTW, accessible even if you're unfamiliar with the movie it's invoking, but if you are, remedy that, because it stars a young Ralph Fiennes as Lawrence and a young Siddig el Fadil as Feisal (this was the gig that got him the role of Dr. Bashir on DS9), and they're both superb.

The Expanse:

Fraternization: a Drummer pov on five of her relationships. Excellent.

For All Mankind:

Gimbal Lock In which Margo in s4 tries very hard not to reach conclusions when musing on both Sergei and Irina. Very intense look on Margo's emotional life in the USSR.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell:

The Stars not seen before: post-book tale featuring in addition to our sort-of-heroes the definitely heroic former Stephen Black; the mixture of social awkwardness, humor and magic is wonderfully evocative.

Watership Down:

Blackavar‘s Apprehension: Blackavar backstory, very plausible and a great take on life in Efrafra.

The Wire:

Fairy Tale of Baltimore: in which Stringer Bell is contemplated and contemplates through the years. Intense and superbly written, worthy of the show.

Willow (TV):

The Wizard King of Galladoorn: since this charming tv show was cruelly canceled, we shall never now how Graydon extricates himself from the situation he ends up in in the s1 finale, and this story doesn't say, either, but it provides a lovely take on the likely aftermath, the character, and the ensemble interaction.

I feel this question demands answers in different categories, such as:

a) Animals which are fictional in the sense that they, these particular individual animals, never lived (so, for example, a novel in which Bucchephalus, Alexander the Great’s horse, plays the leading role would be out) (not that Buccephalus would be my choice anyway)

b) Animals which are fictional in the sense that their species never existed (the inevitable Star Wars: The Porg’s Tale would be in)

There also should be subdivision c) for Animals which aren’t really animals but enchanted humans (think Frog Prince), but are in animal form for the majority or totality of the story and thus subject to animal rules. Here I’d also include someone like the Disney animated movie version of Robin Hood, for while fox Robin (aka Best Robin Ever!!!!) is a fox within the movie, he’s based on a human; ditto for Basil the Sherlock Holmes avatar, and so forth.

Bearing this in mind:

a) Well, the rabbits from Watership Down (the novel) are hard to beat in my fictional love. They are three dimensional characters, with their quirks, flaws and strengths, and I feel Adams makes them come across as animals, not thinly disguised humans. However, I can’t single out one more than the others in my affections, and thus I move on to fictional cats. Neil Gaiman’s fondness for cats inspired various memorable felines (some divine, some not), but my undisputed favourite of these is the one from Coraline. I knew I loved it the moment I read the reply to Coraline’s question about the name.

b) I’m as vulnerable to the allure of dragons as the next fantasy inclined person. My favourites among dragons include Fuchur (I think the English translation renamed him Falkor, but I never read Ende in English, so I only know by osmosis) from Michael Ende’s Never-ending Story, but even more an earlier Ende dragon, or rather, half-dragon, Nepomuk from Jim Knopf und Lukas der Lokomotivführer. (Cassiopeia the turtle in Ende’s Momo is nifty, too.) But there is a fictional animal in this particular sense that I love even more than any dragon: why, the last unicorn, of course, of Peter S. Beagle fame. No other unicorn ever made me love them except this one.

c) Matthew the Raven in Sandman (another Gaiman character, though his earlier human self came from The Swamp Thing and, I believe, thus Alan Moore), competing with Sheila the bird from the cartoon series Sindbad I watched as a child („Sindbad, Sindbad, schau, wieviel Glück dieses Kind hat…“), a girl changed into a bird pre-series who doesn’t get changed back until the end and tries to keep the kid version of Sindbad the sailor alive in between. The earlier mentioned Robin Hood the fox comes close, but not quite.


The other days

At least it is to me. When not working and/or raging, I've spent the last few days trying to distract myself by reading other people's yuletide requests, and checking out my fandoms for new stories. Or rereading old favourites. Fiction makes so much more sense than reality now...

Results:

Black Sails:

The Sea Cook: hilarious fusion with the Harry Potter verse, set during the Treasure Island era the show will presumably not reach (or only in an epilogue). Remember that Silver in Treasure Island has a parrot he's nicknamed "Captain Flint"? Well, as it turns out Flint is an animagus...

Two Masks: whereas this one is an angsty, intense look at Miranda and James early on in their exile on Nassau.

Watership Down:

The Story of Marli-Hrair and the Black Rabbit of Inlé: I probably recced this already in the past, but it's so worth rereading - or reading the first time! A fantatic addition to rabbit mythology, just beautiful.

..in reverse order.

Call the Midwife: don't have much to say other than it was lovely as usual. I'm a bit torn on Avril ( doing something spoilery ) This was the first episode where we see old Jenny, whose voiceover was the narrative voice throughout and apparantly is here to stay, but I'm not sure whether the framing scenes with Vanessa Redgrave had any other point than to ressure us of this, given that young Jenny has left the show and it is now later seasons Blake's 7. :) Not that it wasn't nice to see her, of course. As to the rest of the gang, everyone was as endearing as always. Cynthia ( doing something spoilery ) This is still my comfort show, and the way it treats not just one but a myriad of choices women make as valid is a great part of why.

Now, as to Yuletide. I'm trying not to let the usual Yuletide angst get to me (i.e. repeating the "self, the recipient and a few others liked your stories on the first day, you can't expect more with small-even-for-Yuletide fandoms and no one having recced them elsewhere so far" mantra). Here are a few more stories I loved reading:

Euripides: Bacchae

Agave in Illyria: Half poetry, half prose, gorgeously creepy and cruel in its take on two sisters who went through some of the most gruesome fates Greek myths have in store.


Benjamin January Mysteries:

Escargots: casefic! With Rose as the leading detective, co-starring Olympe and Augustus Mayerling. Set while Ben is off in Washington, and immensely enjoyable to read.

Where there's a will: lovely missing scene about Chloe and Dominique making the transition to the friends we see them be in the last few novels.


The Musketeers:

Knife to a musket fight: in which Porthos gives Constance more self defense lessons. Fantastic friendship story, and the last line packs a punch.


Hilary Mantel: A place of greater safety:

Our wars will be our own: because if Camille, Lucille and Danton didn't have a threesome, they ought to have had.

Pride:

Step into Christmas (the admission is free): Steph spends Christmas with Gethin and Jonathan mid movie; the story has the great characterisation and warmth the film did, and is lovely to read.

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles:

Start with the first ten: in which John Henry becomes. John Henry, Savannah, Catherine Weaver and James Ellison were the other family in SCC, and I'm always thrilled to discover fic dealing with that. This one manages to come up with a John Henry perspective which feels plausibly A.I., and specifically an A.I. which developes as radically as John Henry does. I loved it.

Watership Down:

The Mercy of Frith: The story of Blackavar, one of the most intriguing minor characters in the novel. Intense and marvellously written.

The Wire:

Whereever you go, there you are: Randy and Carver, years post show. Heartbreaking, yet also hopeful.

The internet as an education tool, # 20045: so I idly check out fanficrants, and in the midst of a small debate about whether or not it would be ic for Howard Stark to refuse to pay ransom had Tony been kidnapped as a child, someone brings up one of those real life stories one wouldn't dare to invent but which had been utterly unknown to me until then: the John Paul Getty III case. J. Paul Getty III was kidnapped in 1971, his grandfather - J. Paul Getty, Sr., he who collected all the art on dispay in Los Angeles and at the time one of the wealthiest men in the world - refused to pay the ransom. (The boy's father did not have access to the family money). After the grandfather received the boy's ear and a lock of hair in the mail, he finally agreed to led money to his son (at 4%) interest - and only 2.2 million (the maximum tax deductible amount) to pay the kidnappers. It's the "maximum tax deductible amount" which delivers the final blow. I mean, if someone wrote a novel with this detail, or shot a film, you'd call the grandfather millionaire character an over the top unbelievable caricature. Good grief.

On a more joyful note, this week's fannish5 wants to know:

Five favorite comfort reads: books or stories you turn to when you're sick or feeling down.


1.) Richard Adams: Watership Down. It must be bunnies, as Anya would say. Still my favourite novel using animals as main characters, and I love every bit of it, including and especially the in-world mythology, the stories of El-ahrairah. Note that there are some very grimm passages (WIRES!), so my idea of comfort reading obviously includes scary interludes, but you know, I was raised with Grimm fairy tales, so. :)

2.) Heinrich Heine: Deutschland. Ein Wintermärchen. This I usually listen to rather than read, in one of the various recitations available by some of our top actors. It's still one of the best and wittiest satires (verse or prose) by one of our best poets ever, Heine in top form, doesn't spare anything or anyone including himself and is guaranteed to make me smile in a rueful "...and this is still true!" way. (More Heine praise complete with translations here.)

3.) Katharine Hepburn: African Queen. This short, slender book about making the film of the title was the predecessor of her later memoirs and is ideal comfort reading. It's brief, funny, with affectionate portrayals of Huston, Bogart and Laureen Bacall (who as Bogart's wife was along with the ride even if she didn't appear in the film), and unafraid to use herself as the butt of a joke. (As when she reports how after lecturing Huston and Bogart about their drinking she got sick while those two alcoholics of course remained just fine.) Written in a breezy rat-at-tat speaking style that makes you feel Katharine Hepburn is telling you this story.

4.) The Letters of Nancy Mitford and Evelyn Waugh. Waugh's a cold bastard, both of them are the embodiment of privilege, but my, could they ever write witty letters. (Bursting with good anecdotes. One of my favourites is about Randolph Churchill (son of Winston, cousin of Nancy) reacting to Brideshead Revisited by declaring he'll never commit adultery in the same carefree way again.) Blissikins, to use a Mitford phrase. Also Nancy is great at shooting Waugh down when he gets into lecturing mode, and being the cosmopolitan to his xenophobe.

5.) Barbara Hambly: Bride of the Rat God. Which is a glorious 1920s adventure in which our heroine, sensible Englishwoman Norah, helps her sister-in-law, glamorous and extravagant American silent film star Christine, when the later becomes accidentally the focus of supernatural goings on. So many things to love about this: it's both a spoof of a certain type of serial and a good variety of it because it takes its characters seriously in the absurd situations they're thrown in, the romance between Norah (who in the process of the adventure finds her calling as a scriptwriter) and Alex the camera man is endearingly unangsty, the evocation of Los Angeles in general and Hollywood in particular in the 1920s is great, and most importantly, Hambly avoids the temptation of villainizing or trashing Christine the hedonistic party girl in order to build up Norah; au contraire, the friendship and bond between these two different women is crucial for the tale.