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moved to @hauntedmoors

@alectology-archive / alectology-archive.tumblr.com

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Anonymous asked:

Genre isn't real. Subversion is good for literature.

insane that I’m still getting asks on this blog but I never meant to imply that rigid genre distinctions have any real benefit in categorising literature or that they’re anything but a tool for capitalism. nothing on that post also says anything negative about subversions - instead I made multiple reblogs clarifying, for the people misreading the post, that I have a lot of fondness for subversions and think that they represent the best of literature’s capability to examine itself, ponder on its legacy and tackle genre conventions and messages that might not have necessarily aged well with time.

#insane that this blog is still getting followers.#asks#anon asks#I don’t even care for the idea of religiously maintaining the idea of a ‘genre’ tbh but that’s a whole other discussion.
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sleepingfancies
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neuroticboyfriend

no but really, so what if someone needs a mobility aid because they're fat? when it comes to mobility aids, it doesn't matter why you need them outside of understanding what your needs are. what really matters is how it would improve your life - make you happier and healthier, like you deserve to be.

this goes for any treatment and support you need because you're fat. fat people have the same right to healthcare that thin people do, and being fat never means you don't deserve wellbeing and safety. fatness is not a wrongdoing. it impacting your health doesn't mean being fat is bad - or that you're bad.

the moralization of disability and fatness is not your fault. please do what you need to be as healthy and safe as you can be. this is your life, no one else's. live it as best you can.

#sj
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olreid
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dappledinshadow

i think the reason why i liked ntn so much was because one of the main conflicts during it is the issue of personhood, specifically in regards to cavaliers outside of cavalierhood.

the entire cast has honestly no obligation to adhere to house standards anymore, considering their status as either lyctors/defectors, and, more importantly, how their necromancers have treated them. camilla's necromancer is dead, and she has been hanging on to his scraps for over a year; gideon's necromancer squirreled her away in her brain and then disappeared without context or warning; and alecto's necromancer locked her away for the benefit of everyone but her. they all have VERY interesting perspectives on what their "duties" are in regards to this, but that's a different post - point is, they could be free, and they would have every right to it. and i think that having nona "be free" in the sense that she does not know she is a cavalier and is allowed to just be a girl with desires who loves freely, and have her personhood and autonomy be so central to the plot, is so so good when contrasted with camilla and gideon's devotion (and even alecto's devotion!). all camilla and gideon want is to be with their necromancers, despite it all, quite literally to death - the peak of cavaliership is to die for your necromancer and let them eat you. they are trying so hard to die, in order to become half of a whole. and all nona wants is to be herself! ("How to say that she wanted to go as Nona—with all her thoughts and feelings being Nona feelings, which might only be about six months old and therefore not very good, but were still her own?") and her freedom kills her anyway. it raises the question of if there is an escape from the constructs of the houses, or if there is a "right way" to have a necro/cav relationship, or if personhood has a place in the grand scheme of things at all, and its turned my brain into scrambled egg!!!

#more like. the duty of cavalierhood is to die.#the locked tomb#tlt notes
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familyabolisher
There is a final twist to Rebecca and it is a covert one. Maxim de Winter kills not one wife, but two. He murders the first with a gun, and the second by slower, more insidious methods. The second Mrs. de Winter’s fate, for which she prepares herself throughout the novel, is to be subsumed by her husband. Following him into that hellish exile glimpsed in the opening chapters, she becomes again what she was when she first met him—the paid companion to a petty tyrant. For humoring his whims, and obeying his every behest, her recompense is not money, but “love”—and the cost is her identity. This is the final bitter irony of this novel, and the last of its many reversals. A story that ostensibly attempts to bury Rebecca, in fact resurrects her, and renders her unforgettable, whereas Mrs. de Winter, our pale, ghostly and timid narrator, fades from our view; it is she who is the dying woman in this novel. By extension—and this is daring on du Maurier’s part—her obedient beliefs, her unquestioning subservience to the male, are dying with her.

Sally Beauman, 'Afterword' to Rebecca

#rebecca#lit
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