Showing posts with label emotion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotion. Show all posts

Thursday, 21 June 2012

Reflections on Dumas' D'Artagnan Romances

Today, I was going to do a book review, but in light of something that happened last night, my brain revolted against me and decided that I had to post about this instead. Personally, given my last post on emotional scenes, I find this to be a rather fitting follow-on.

I started reading Alexandre Dumas' d'Artagnan Romances (otherwise known as the series of books featuring the famous Three Musketeers) sometime before Christmas last year. I'd heard a lot about the books, and I'm a sucker for gallivanting mischief-making heroes, so I thought I'd give it a go. 

It didn't take long for me to become completely besotted with the series. To anyone who hasn't read it, it's wonderful stuff; adventure, romance, mischief-making, and more laughs than I would have expected any such book to contain. I got very attached to our four main protagonists, and thus I knew I had to hunt down the other books in the series to find out what happened to them next. I could scarcely believe that they would all just part ways and go off to live quiet, separate lives, nevermore to embroil themselves in ludicrious, yet somehow bizarrely effecive, feats of breaking-and-entering, terrorising the cardinal and generally bringing laughs and love to all who meet them.

Thus, I went forth, and bought Twenty Years Later. Though somewhat more complicated than its predecessor, the adventure was bigger and better than ever, and the new villain was a wonderfully eerie reminder of business left unfinished from the first book. 

On and on I went through the books. The plots got thicker, the reading got slower, and we spent more and more narrative time away from our four protagonists. I'll admit I nearly gave up on the series a couple of times here - we were dealing with characters that we had had no previous introduction to or reason to care about, everything seemed to be happening very slowly ... and what the heck have you done with Athos!? Seriously, we hardly see him at all through most of the later books, focussing mainly instead on a character we meet in Twenty Years Later, Raoul, and his friends, with the occasional cameo from D'Artagnan. As lovely as Raoul is, it wasn't him I wanted to read about. 

And then came The Man in the Iron Mask, the final installment of the series. The books had been growing steadily darker, and the fierce friendship between the Musketeers had been stretched and pulled and twisted in all directions as the factions surrounding the young king shifted and scrabbled for handholds. While D'Artagnan struggles to make sense of it all, Athos chews his nails and tries to work out why he feel something is about to go horribly wrong, Aramis schemes and Porthos is seen in places even more inappropriate than usual, the reader slowly becomes more and more confused. 

But I'll be eaten by tribbles if I say that the last book didn't grip me. Gone was my old lethargy - the stakes were high, the battle-lines were drawn, and the players' moves were stunning (even if several of them did come swinging wildly out of the left field to hit you in the face). Love, betrayal, powermongering, loyalty tried and tested ... words cannot  describe the emotion.

And no one came out unscathed. Not even Raoul, who has no further designs than marrying the woman he loves and protecting his friends. The king himself is in so many knots that the untangling ruins not only his finance minister, but also damages his family and friends.

But the greatest blow of all comes to the Musketeers. I never expected their story to end like this. They have all had their share of ups, downs, and sickening lurches that have resulted in situations involving cellars, awkward disguises, and at least one goat between them, but you would never, ever, expect a story with such gallant, unfearing, and remarkably adept escapists to end so well. These guys have survived the English Civil War, the scheming of Richelieu and Mazarin, and the personal vendetta of a woman who could eat Lucrezia Borgia for breakfast.

But in the end, that doesn't save them.

Aramis bites off more than he can chew.
Porthos trusts someone more than he should.
Athos leaves something crucial until too late.
And D'Artagnan has to make a terrible choice between his past, and his future.

For a long while, I just sat there staring at the page, not quite able to believe what had happened. Everything had unravelled so inexorably, and yet with every second I kept hoping that there would be one last twist, one last stroke of genius, that would stop it.

But it never came, and I was left sitting there, tears welling up, watching D'Artagnan's last words fade into blurriness before me.

"Athos, Porthos, au revoir! Aramis, adieu for ever!"

~ Charley R

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Oh, And How I Wept...

Whenever I come to love a character, I seem to set a curse on them. By some strange twist of fate, they will always end up injured, scarred, or traumatised, before the story is finished. That is, if they don't die.  That's what seems to happen to most of them.

As some of you may know, I am one of the legions of fans who adores the "Song of Ice and Fire" series by George R. R. Martin. While I have not yet watched the TV series adapted from the books, I have only just recently finished reading the last book, A Dance with Dragons. However, as much as I wanted to strangle author, editor and several characters within it by the end, it is the third book in the series, A Storm of Swords, that I think is the best in the series.

Namely because it reduced me to a sobbing lump under my pillow for the best part of twenty minutes.



That was evil, George. Even for you. Now please excuse me while I go and hug my family...

I was discussing the book with my friend earlier, and it got me thinking about something that happend earlier this year. For my first speech at a school English Symposium, I did a very quick presentation on the benefits of tragic endings over comic ones, based mostly around the idea of cathartic release. "Cathartic" here meaning "release of excessive emotion in response to fictional events", not some freaky hybrid-word meaning "arthritic felines".

I never used to cry all that much until the wonderful phenomenon of teenagerhood set in. Now, it seems, I am relatively easy to upset - and my tear ducts just love joining in the party. While many of my friends - mostly those who don't read much - will laugh and wonder how on earth something that is happening beyond a barrier of printed words, or a TV screen, can reduce me to a sniffling, cushion-hugging wreck.

What can I say. All the feels. I haz dem.

And, thankfully, I know I am not alone. Cathartic release has been utilised by playwrites, screenwriters and authors since the first cavemen picked up a lump of charcoal. Sometimes, we all need a good cry, and releasing it in an environment where it is deemed to be something at least vaguely acceptable is often a covenient time. Besides, humans are empathetic creatures, and we often recognise parts of ourselves in characters.

And sometimes their fate makes us so utterly miserable that we just want to pull them through the void and give them a hug.

I also believe that I can use my very undignified abuse of the tissue box to my advantage. If I know what makes me cry, I can remember the technique and put it to use myself. Nothing teaches you the value of good dialogue and lifelike expression and reaction like a scene that reduces you to tears. I've also developed a whole new level of respect for orchestral composers. Those evil people owe me gallons of my tears back.

But what about all of you? Do you cry easily? What sort of scene gets to you the most? Leave a comment and let me know - let's see if we can decide universally on the Greatest Tear-Jerking Scene Ever, According to Followers of the Tower of Plot!

And now I leave you with five hints. Five hints that pertain closely to five events, on TV, in books and on the silver screen, that have driven pointy things into my poor bleeding heart in recent times.

Warning: Contains feels. Lots and lots of feels.

~ "Loki ... no."


~ "My brother. My captain. My king."


~ "REGENERATE!"


~ "You were my new dream."


~ The Rains of Castamere.




~ Charley R