The bolded sections represent quotes from the criticism he received. All the z-snaps are in order.
Your characters are unrealistic stereotpyes of political correctness. Is it really necessary for the sake of popular sensibilities to have in a fantasy what we have in the real world? I read fantasy to get away from politically correct cliches.
God, yes! If there’s one thing fantasy is just crawling with these days it’s widowed black middle-aged pirate moms.
Real sea pirates could not be controlled by women, they were vicous rapits and murderers and I am sorry to say it was a man’s world. It is unrealistic wish fulfilment for you and your readers to have so many female pirates, especially if you want to be politically correct about it!
First, I will pretend that your last sentence makes sense because it will save us all time. Second, now you’re pissing me off.
You know what? Yeah, Zamira Drakasha, middle-aged pirate mother of two, is a wish-fulfillment fantasy. I realized this as she was evolving on the page, and you know what? I fucking embrace it.
Why shouldn’t middle-aged mothers get a wish-fulfillment character, you sad little bigot? Everyone else does. H.L. Mencken once wrote that “Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.” I can’t think of anyone to whom that applies more than my own mom, and the mothers on my friends list, with the incredible demands on time and spirit they face in their efforts to raise their kids, preserve their families, and save their own identity/sanity into the bargain.
Shit yes, Zamira Drakasha, leaping across the gap between burning ships with twin sabers in hand to kick in some fucking heads and sail off into the sunset with her toddlers in her arms and a hold full of plundered goods, is a wish-fulfillment fantasy from hell. I offer her up on a silver platter with a fucking bow on top; I hope she amuses and delights. In my fictional world, opportunities for butt-kicking do not cease merely because one isn’t a beautiful teenager or a muscle-wrapped font of testosterone. In my fictional universe, the main characters are a fat ugly guy and a skinny forgettable guy, with a supporting cast that includes “SBF, 41, nonsmoker, 2 children, buccaneer of no fixed abode, seeks unescorted merchant for light boarding, heavy plunder.”
You don’t like it? Don’t buy my books. Get your own fictional universe. Your cabbage-water vision of worldbuilding bores me to tears.
As for the “man’s world” thing, religious sentiments and gender prejudices flow differently in this fictional world. Women are regarded as luckier, better sailors than men. It’s regarded as folly for a ship to put to sea without at least one female officer; there are several all-female naval military traditions dating back centuries, and Drakasha comes from one of them. As for claims to “realism,” your complaint is of a kind with those from bigoted hand-wringers who whine that women can’t possibly fly combat aircraft, command naval vessels, serve in infantry actions, work as firefighters, police officers, etc. despite the fact that they do all of those things— and are, for a certainty, doing them all somewhere at this very minute. Tell me that a fit fortyish woman with 25+ years of experience at sea and several decades of live bladefighting practice under her belt isn’t a threat when she runs across the deck toward you, and I’ll tell you something in return— you’re gonna die of stab wounds.
What you’re really complaining about isn’t the fact that my fiction violates some objective “reality,” but rather that it impinges upon your sad, dull little conception of how the world works. I’m not beholden to the confirmation of your prejudices; to be perfectly frank, the prospect of confining the female characters in my story to placid, helpless secondary places in the narrative is so goddamn boring that I would rather not write at all. I’m not writing history, I’m writing speculative fiction. Nobody’s going to force you to buy it. Conversely, you’re cracked if you think you can persuade me not to write about what amuses and excites me in deference to your vision, because your vision fucking sucks.
I do not expect to change your mind but i hope that you will at least consider that I and others will not be buying your work because of these issues. I have been reading science fiction and fantasy for years and i know that I speak for a great many people. I hope you might stop to think about the sales you will lose because you want to bring your political corectness and foul language into fantasy. if we wanted those things we could go to the movies. Think about this!
Thank you for your sentiments. I offer you in exchange this engraved invitation to go piss up a hill, suitable for framing.
I finished it! And I have some thoughts on it (that I want to get down and out of my head for the purposes of not forgetting and for my peace of mind (otherwise I will dwell on this for days - and I’ve already spent my time at work dwelling on this enough as is, thank you very much)).
Why do I always write these things at absurd hours of the morning/night.
Spoilers and such below.
So my Honedge just evolved into a Doublade, and my immediate thought was “Jean would totally have this pokemon.” (If they were to exist within the pokemon universe or pokemon to exist within theirs, at any rate. Wicked Sisters the Doublade (I’m going to need to catch another one and name it that, mine is called Thistle).)
BUT THEN OF COURSE I start mentally applying pokemon to Locke and Jean. I think an Absol would be great for Locke (or for the pair of them, but mostly Locke) considering it’s the disaster pokemon, you see this thing and you know shit’s gonna go down. (Which I feel, by this point, is pretty applicable to Locke, causing mayhem since he was five or something.)
Maybe a Murkrow? Definitely a Sneasel (it’s a sneaky thiefy pokemon).
(I’m so sorry)
|—||from Republic of Thieves, by Scott Lynch (via jesters-armed)|
It was raining in the assembly area as the characters mustered. Of course it was. More atmospheric that way.
"Atten-HUT!" bellowed an editor. Shoulders were squared, cigars were dropped and ground under boot-heels. Even the Sanzas quit horsing around. Rank on rank they stood, nervously expectant. Fictional characters in full battle dress costume. Gentlemen Bastards. Bondsmagi. Secondary Players. Walk-ons and cameos.
Then he appeared out of the swirling fog and the inevitable, numinous drizzle. The Author. The Big Guy. The Unanswerable. Nobody had more stars on their collar. Nobody else could slouch around so unshaven and get away with it. He ascended the podium and pulled a few scraps of paper from his pocket. The moment was fraught with portent; things were serious enough that The Author was actually wearing pants.
"Men and women of the Gentleman Bastard sequence," he read, "after conference with my senior meteorologists and copyeditors, I have given the final green light to OPERATION: AT LONG LAST FINALLY HOLY SHIT ZOMG."
"I don’t believe it," whispered Colonel Tannen. "We’re finally going!"
"Shhhh," muttered Colonel Belacoros. "I want to hear the rest."
"Now you proud and highly trained fictional characters will embark on the great crusade," continued the Big Guy. "You will invade and liberate bookstore shelves on two continents, beginning at dawn tomorrow. This operation will not be easy. Detachments of advance reader copies have been sent out to pave the way. Some of them have been entirely successful. Some of the ARC drops have taken heavy casualties, like that one in Canada. Well, we all know the score. Bookselling wars are hell. Some of you will earn medals, callback appearances, and fan art. Some of you embarking on this mission will not be coming back."
"Oh, no shit," muttered Captain Nazca Barsavi. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"Some of you will be going out with one of the hardcover regiments," said the Big Guy. "Others have been assigned to the electronic brigades or the book club units. A few of you will be held in reserve for deployment in a trade paperback division. Whatever your duty, I want you all to remember that OPERATION: AT LONG LAST FINALLY HOLY SHIT ZOMG has taken five and a half years of meticulous preparation. We have even softened the internet combat zones with strategically-placed drops of kitten pictures. I repeat, kitten pictures have been deployed.”
"Weapons of mass adoration," whispered Brigadier General Lamora, shaking his head. "I didn’t know if he’d have the guts to use them!"
"They’re adorbs," said his adjutant, Sgt. Bug. "Totes adorbs."
"This is it, ladies and gentlemen… and bastards," said the Big Guy. "The day we’ve been planning and training for. The day we’ve been hoping for. I want you to hit those bookstores hard! Make me proud! Make the editors scream "Sequels!" Make the suits scream "Movie options!" Make the readers scream "Arrrrgh, why are you such a monster, Lynch!"
"Actually, we’ve got that one pretty much covered," coughed one of the Sanza brothers.
"Characters dismissed!" bellowed the Big Guy. "Report to your books and shipping cartons! Get out there and kick some literary ass! One more day and I’ll see you all on the shelves!"
» T H E B A R T I M A E U S T R I L O G Y »
↳ Asa Butterfield as Nathaniel & Maisie Williams as Kitty Jones.
"You believed in the notion of the honorable magician, who takes responsibility for his actions. Such a thing does not exist. There is no honor, no nobility, no justice. Every magician acts only for himself, seizing each opportunity he can.”
~ The Amulet of Samarkand
this..oh wow! i just have no words..
At work, in order to pass the time, I tell stories to my co-workers. Usually about the books I’m reading (and if I’m not reading any good books then I’ll tell myths and legends).
So, of course, when I was reading Lies I told it to my co-worker (who probably would have actually read the book if I had given it to her, but we both had fun this way), and of course when I finished Lies she really wanted to know what happened next so I went into Red Seas.
And throughout the entirety of my run down of Red Seas whenever I got to a “and then” she’d scream “BONDSMAGE ATTACK?!” it was a lot of fun AND THAT IMAGE REMINDED ME OF IT. Just how paranoid she got where she thought EVERYTHING WAS BONDSMAGE. BONDSMAGE EVERYWHERE. BONDSMAGE ORCHESTRATING EVERYTHING.
I feel like I had a point in there but lost it. If I get to tell her about the next book in the same way I imagine more of the same is going to happen.
A friendly seaside community where the sun is hot, the moons are multiple, and mysterious lights flare up at sunset and we all pretend it’s normal.
Welcome to the Duchy of Camorr.
Hearken, listeners. To start things off, I’ve been asked to read this brief notice: “The Duke’s secret police announce the opening of another attractive Eldren nuisance, somewhere under the crumbling bulk of the abandoned foundries in the Rustwater district. They would like to remind everyone that attractive Eldren nuisances are not attractive. People are not allowed in the attractive Eldren nuisance. It is possible that you will see hooded figures around the attractive Eldren nuisance. DO NOT APPROACH THEM. You’ve seen what happens to people in the footnotes between major chapters and you ought to know better by now.”
Old Woman Josella, out behind the cheapest bawdy house in the Cauldron, says the Thorn of Camorr visited her recently, and that he’s ten feet tall and walks through walls. The Duke’s secret police would just like to remind everyone that the Thorn of Camorr, of course, is not real.
(Camorr painting by Fredrik Dahl Tyskerud)
The Grey King - you know, that guy with the really offensive plan to destroy everyone and everything you ever really loved? Well, listeners, he was last seen doing just that, everywhere you turned. What - a - jerk.
In other news, all gold and gold byproducts have mysteriously vanished from our city.