Nasat,
I'm not going to re-post your initial review or your later thoughts in the interest of space here...but I did want to tell you that as usual, I enjoy reading your words so very much. The time you spend developing your ideas and the way you articulate them never fails to make me think.
That's very humbling to hear; thank you.
Once again, you've delivered a novel that
provokes a great many ideas, and I feel like making crystal clear that any issues I personally had with the book stem from the
fact of its quality, and my enjoyment of it - that is, the flaw, if flaw it is, is within me and not in your work.
To be completely honest, I'm not sure I really understand most of that second long post.
Are you saying...and please correct me if I am wrong, as there is a very good chance I am...
It was no doubt my tendency to waffle that's responsible for any confusion. Clarity is not exactly my strong point at times; sorry!
that because no individual can be completely self-aware, any time you read something that resonates with you as truthful, or useful, you are forced to discount it given the fact that you cannot trust in the source? That ultimately, the source's own biases will be revealed at which point you must discredit whatever you found insightful because the beliefs on which those insights were based are in conflict with yours and therefor must be discredited?
Then I
have failed to explain myself, at least partially. The first half of what you write here, though, is probably generally accurate, save for one detail. That is, while I wouldn't have described it like this, your summary -
"because no individual can be completely self-aware, any time you read something that resonates with you as truthful, or useful, you are forced to discount it" - is rather too on the nose for me to protest. I think you rather eloquently summarized it there, for the most part. The only issue I'd have with this summary is that the usefulness or quality of the experience isn't
discounted but simply tarnished slightly - and that's because my hopes for it, and for other people, were too unrealistic and ultimately selfish. I agree entirely with what you say regarding the individual's capacity to be moved or inspired by any given piece of writing on its own terms; if it means something to an individual then that's what matters. The problem, really, is my tendency, not yet conquered, to be a little too much like the Borg; I want perfection, and can never reach it. The closer I get, the more the disappointment becomes potentially dangerous. The more I respect a person, for instance, the more likely it is that their perceived flaws (from my perspective), which usually don't mean a thing, will become massive irritants. It's selfish, and I know why it happens. But it means that in most instances I need to work to distance myself from that which I find affecting and inspiring, at least at a later point, lest the fact of the meaning, truth and insight I found in it become too intense in its conflict with my otherwise buried disappointment or offence, and erupt.
But that's me all over. 98% of the time I'm a very easy person to deal with, the other 2% I'm a nightmare, in part because it comes out of nowhere.
As an author, I'm pretty much stuck in the Tabitha Fortis camp...."My job as a writer is to hold your attention for however long I have asked for it.
Well, you're definitely doing your job as an author, then.
What you do with what I write is yours. It has nothing to do with me. I don't need it to. But I truly hope that suspicion of my motives does not limit or taint the reading experience for you.
I would like to emphasise that it's really myself who is the "problem" here.

It's simply the knowledge that you and I, like anyone else and myself, have a chasm between us that usually provokes in me at worst friendly indifference and at best fascination and insight (I tend to get on well with pretty much everyone, and I value the individual and not the group, so my disagreements with people, even over Really Important Things, don't tend to mean much or cause much friction); but the more that gap is closed, the greater the potential for discontent, with everything I admire in a person or a work emphasising the parts I don't until they're too painful to bear. And I know that I'll try to close that gap far too quickly and eagerly, and in my respect and admiration wind up savaging that person.
This must sound odd, but I know the reasons why I work like this.
Anyway...thank you again for taking so much time to dig into this.
Best,
KMFB.
Thank
you, for taking the time to answer (and to provoke further thought on my part). It's greatly appreciated, and I very much look forward to the third book of this trilogy.
