This fic is so simple yet wonderful in a comfy-yet-uncomfortable way that so perfectly conveys how Sirius feels. I am entranced by your imagery and attention to detail in this story. From the dusty sunlight streaming in through the windows to the single unchipped teacup, I can picture it all so well in my head.
I wish I had been able to find out what Lily’s lecture for Sirius was, but of course it’s irrelevant because James doesn’t really care, and neither does Sirius. So typical of them. So greatly conveyed by you.
My two favorite moments of the story are when Sirius takes that stroll outside and when he wakes up in his flat the next morning. The air was bitter, bitter cold, and you turned up your collar. You hadn't realised that you were laughing, but you were; a lonely sound. That moment of normalcy, turning up his collar, brings the story to life, especially as I read this in the chill of December. And then there’s the brilliant, but slightly mad, Sirius who doesn’t care that he’s alone, because he’s Sirius, and that’s just who he is. He appreciates the people he has, but he’s not dependent on them for survival. (Maybe that’s not what you had intended, but that’s how it felt, and I like seeing Sirius like that. Sure of himself, even though he’s not quite.)
And then there’s the Sirius in the morning sequence, which is just so rich and full of detail that it … I don’t want to say it makes me want to cry, but it struck a huge chord in me. Not because it’s overt and significant, but just because it’s so real, and written so beautifully. Occasionally you'd fall asleep again before the sun had even begun to rise, but most of the time you'd sit very still and listen to what you imagined might be the sound of a city awakening. I just kind of want to marry that sentence for reasons I can’t comprehend. The latter end of that sentence is like an underscore to hope, and it ties into feelings in the fic later when James and Sirius are intoxicated but can forget that it’s winter and wartime.
And, at the danger of possibly writing a review that’s half as long as the fic, I still have to comment on the section about tomorrow. One thing caught particularly in my mind as I read – that Sirius didn’t want to think anything concretely about the future because he didn’t want to have that structure.
Oh, and I also loved that he’d tried to pry the Black Family crest off of his trunk. The end. You’re amazing.
Joy! Noldofic! *is happy*
Um, okay. I have to shower you with much praise, because you are one of the few people who can actually sell me on second person, which so easily comes off as being totally wrong. And you never cease to amaze me by the way you can combine words and create poetry. You describe furniture as “unfortunate and desolate,” and I get shivers running down my spine. How are you so amazing?
You hadn't realized that you were laughing, but you were; a lonely sound. Did I mention the shivers running down my spine? Your words are beautiful things.
Every time I read one of your stories, I notice something different about the way you use words. Today it’s how you combine concrete and abstract descriptions, and how powerfully that works. Sirius falls “in an inelegant tangle of gravity and limbs.” Gravity is abstract, limbs are concrete, and yet you put them together without distinction, and it makes perfect sense. I don’t know why it works, and I keep trying to analyze it without coming up with anything, but works it definitely does.
You do it with verbs, too: “it lay there, open and slightly forlorn and spilling rolls of parchment.” You intermingle usual verbs and personification, and somehow the juxtaposition between the fact that the trunk is open – a normal thing for a trunk to be – and that it is slightly forlorn – personification, Sirius’ thoughts spilling over and being caught up in the description of the things around him – create a state of mind that is truly unique. We’re caught half-way between the two worlds, the concrete world around him, and the world that is Sirius’ thoughts. I’m getting incredibly garbled here, because I’m trying to describe what you’ve done and figure it out, but I can’t really explain it – your words speak best for themselves.
You are also a master of combining thought and action; you’ve found the perfect balance of when to be more explicit, and when a simple statement of action: “The air was bitter, bitter cold, and you turned up your collar.” As simple a statement as statements come, and yet it speaks incredibly poignantly – the text-book example of showing instead of telling.
The thing about your writing is it’s incredibly difficult to analyze; you write poetry in prose form, and it’s absolutely beautiful. (I know I’ve said that about fifty times already, but I’m feeling incoherent and it’s true.) I can’t help wondering what your writing style would look like outside of fanfiction. Here you’ve created a prose-poem around a background that we’re familiar with – would it stand alone without the background? Could you create a background without ruining the mood? Is a background even necessary? Random thoughts here, but your writing is so good I can’t help but wonder what it would be like apart from the context of fanfiction.
The end, and especially the last line – I have nothing to say about the last line, except that I am totally and completely in awe of you, forevermore. *fangirls like woah*
Umm......... wat to say.................
odd......... yet shilghtly good
*sigh* Why must you continually make me feel so inadequate, dear?
Second person is a difficult thing to pull off (er, for me) and you did it very, very well. Your descriptions of setting were fabulous; I could see them in my mind.
My favorite part was tomorrow, and especially the first sentence. You somehow managed to fit everything that defines a day unknown into that little paragraph, and I just sort of thought "wow" as I read it.
Oh, and congrats on getting On The Turning Away featured. =)
I loved it, It was absolutly fantastic!! I love your style of writing, and as usual, you've captured the mood and feeling perfectly. Good job!