Simon R Green
May. 17th, 2004 01:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
incandescensNothing like a new book by a favourite author to make you realise how much you'd been looking forward to something else by him. Yes, I know he writes pulp, but it's good pulp. And even if he has the David Eddings flaw of giving all his characters the same verbal mannerisms, they are at least amusing mannerisms.
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Last night I dreamed of Hazel d'Ark.
Thief, clonelegger, confidence trickster, warrior . . . heroine. Official legend made her fearless and noble, a saint and a martyr, but she was none of those things. Her dreams were small and petty, and she never gave a damn for causes or politics, but still . . . she was magnificent. She took on everything the Empire could throw against her, and she never once backed down. She had her inner demons, and fought them just as fiercely. When it mattered, she did the right thing. Again and again and again.
In my dream, I see her so clearly. Poor, lost Hazel; with her sharp pointed face, the Go to hell defiance of her bright green eyes, her ratty mane of red hair. Her pout and her scowl and her brief flashing smiles. She moved like a fighter because life had never taught her how to be tender. She fought so hard to be able to call her life her own, and much good it did her. She won nothing she valued, and lost the only man she ever cared for.
Owen: you lied to me. You promised me we'd always be together, for ever and ever. Oh, Owen: I never told you I loved you . . .
She won every battle, and still lost the war. And in the end, there was nothing left but the darkness that had threatened to overwhelm her all her life; so she ran away into it, and was never seen again.
Last night I dreamed of Hazel d'Ark. She'd finally come home. She was smiling. And even in my dream, I wondered why I wasn't glad to see her.
-- Deathstalker Return, Simon R Green
---
Last night I dreamed of Hazel d'Ark.
Thief, clonelegger, confidence trickster, warrior . . . heroine. Official legend made her fearless and noble, a saint and a martyr, but she was none of those things. Her dreams were small and petty, and she never gave a damn for causes or politics, but still . . . she was magnificent. She took on everything the Empire could throw against her, and she never once backed down. She had her inner demons, and fought them just as fiercely. When it mattered, she did the right thing. Again and again and again.
In my dream, I see her so clearly. Poor, lost Hazel; with her sharp pointed face, the Go to hell defiance of her bright green eyes, her ratty mane of red hair. Her pout and her scowl and her brief flashing smiles. She moved like a fighter because life had never taught her how to be tender. She fought so hard to be able to call her life her own, and much good it did her. She won nothing she valued, and lost the only man she ever cared for.
Owen: you lied to me. You promised me we'd always be together, for ever and ever. Oh, Owen: I never told you I loved you . . .
She won every battle, and still lost the war. And in the end, there was nothing left but the darkness that had threatened to overwhelm her all her life; so she ran away into it, and was never seen again.
Last night I dreamed of Hazel d'Ark. She'd finally come home. She was smiling. And even in my dream, I wondered why I wasn't glad to see her.
-- Deathstalker Return, Simon R Green
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Date: 2004-05-17 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-17 11:02 am (UTC)