Okay, first I should mention it's basically impossible for me to be objective about this (which of course no one really can: reading for enjoyment being an entirely subjective endeavor anyway; but hopefully you know what I mean). But this is beyond objective subjectivity; I can't even do objective subjectivity because I'm personalizing, I know I am, because of my RL wherein there've been too many sicknesses and struggles and losses over the last few years, and I'm a depressive, meds for the last 20 years, yadda yadda. And my step-father died a little over a month ago, a wonderful man whose presence in my adult life somewhat undid a lot of the fucked up shit I had with my real father all my life. So, as you can see, I have no objectivity about this story whatsoever, not even objective subjectivity. Or subjective objectivity. But I'm going to comment anyway, dammit, because it's incredibly well written. You must write for a living or be an amateur fic writer or something that involves writing, because it's just that good.
Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I'm just projecting (feel free to tell me so). But I sense maybe these types of things -- struggle, sickness, loss, &/or grief -- happened to you, too. Because I can't figure out how else you could have written this description of grief and loss as well as you have. It's like you've etched it out of frosted glass, every little stroke necessary and accurate, filling in this picture of someone who can't, just can't, do anything anymore, can't live anymore.
And I know that emotion inside out, I know how that feels. Reading this, I wonder if you do, too. I think you must, because no matter how great one's imagination, one always writes best what one knows, right? Because this is so well written, so heart-breakingly note-perfect about the pain of loss. Especially this:
Jim Crowfoot was wrong: after a certain point grief was the only thing you could carry with you. The only thing that made sense.
and this:
All the discipline he had possessed in his former life had been washed away like it had never been important at all. And perhaps it hadn’t—perhaps it had just been something to hide behind. Ray had always thought so. Ray had—
But to think of Ray meant madness, a terrifying maw. Better to think of the woman and wonder who she was. Or perhaps it was better not to think of anything at all.
This kind of grief, this kind of emptiness at one's core, is the kind of thing that makes you wish you had less of a cortex and more of the animal brain. Because if you did, you wouldn't feel. And you could continue living and it would feel just fine to do that, to go on doing all that you're supposed to do. But it doesn't feel fine to do that, because you're human and you have a cortex. So you have to think, whether you like it or not; you have no choice about that. You have to think and feel when you're beyond thinking and feeling.
And that sounds like where Fraser is in your story. And I can so totally relate. I haven't lost a lover (not recently, anyway, although I sense that coming as well, partially because I am paralyzed by grief, exhaustion & depression, and I think he's had it with me, and I really can't blame him). But I have lost so many other things. And when you have lost so many things -- as Fraser has -- it only takes one more great loss to tip you into that maw.
The setup was fantastic too. The opening lines that referred to the devastating effects of climate change, how terribly it affected each species in the ecosystem, without pounding us over the head with the hammer labeled "global warming!" -- those paragraphs and Fraser's apathy were very effective at setting a mood. They created (especially the stuff about the bears) a backdrop of disorientation, maladapted behavior, and madness brought on by undesirable, unwelcome and ultimately annihilating change.
Rang all my angst bells (including those that often don't get rung). I mean, you really put the reader through it (I mean that in a good way!) and we're really made to feel it along with Fraser. Seriously. Very well done indeed.
no subject
Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I'm just projecting (feel free to tell me so). But I sense maybe these types of things -- struggle, sickness, loss, &/or grief -- happened to you, too. Because I can't figure out how else you could have written this description of grief and loss as well as you have. It's like you've etched it out of frosted glass, every little stroke necessary and accurate, filling in this picture of someone who can't, just can't, do anything anymore, can't live anymore.
And I know that emotion inside out, I know how that feels. Reading this, I wonder if you do, too. I think you must, because no matter how great one's imagination, one always writes best what one knows, right? Because this is so well written, so heart-breakingly note-perfect about the pain of loss. Especially this:
and this:
This kind of grief, this kind of emptiness at one's core, is the kind of thing that makes you wish you had less of a cortex and more of the animal brain. Because if you did, you wouldn't feel. And you could continue living and it would feel just fine to do that, to go on doing all that you're supposed to do. But it doesn't feel fine to do that, because you're human and you have a cortex. So you have to think, whether you like it or not; you have no choice about that. You have to think and feel when you're beyond thinking and feeling.
And that sounds like where Fraser is in your story. And I can so totally relate. I haven't lost a lover (not recently, anyway, although I sense that coming as well, partially because I am paralyzed by grief, exhaustion & depression, and I think he's had it with me, and I really can't blame him). But I have lost so many other things. And when you have lost so many things -- as Fraser has -- it only takes one more great loss to tip you into that maw.
The setup was fantastic too. The opening lines that referred to the devastating effects of climate change, how terribly it affected each species in the ecosystem, without pounding us over the head with the hammer labeled "global warming!" -- those paragraphs and Fraser's apathy were very effective at setting a mood. They created (especially the stuff about the bears) a backdrop of disorientation, maladapted behavior, and madness brought on by undesirable, unwelcome and ultimately annihilating change.
Rang all my angst bells (including those that often don't get rung). I mean, you really put the reader through it (I mean that in a good way!) and we're really made to feel it along with Fraser. Seriously. Very well done indeed.