Story Reviews » SA Reviews Round 74 · 11:18pm Jan 2nd, 2016
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'Twas the night after New Year’s, when all through the base
Not an Angel was stirring, all snores and disgrace;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
As always they were when their brother was there;
The Angels were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of shirtless Plum danced in their heads,
And Raz on his king-size, with Red on his lap,
Had just settled their brains for a long post-drink nap
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a small cardboard box, and eight bottles of beer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment it must be that prick.
All glassy and empty his coursers they sat,
And he whistled, and shouted, and theatric’ly spat:
"Now, Frothy! Now, Hoppy! Now, Bitter and Golden!
On, Malty! On, Bubbly! On, Earthy and Olden!
If you all don’t start flying, you’re fired! You’re through!
Even the Angels work harder than you!"
As clippings that out from the mower blades fly,
When they fall to the ground, they just lie there and die;
So down to the soft white the coursers they fell,
With the box full of empties, and old Sock as well—
And then in the silence, Raz heard down below
The squishing of cotton through liquor-slushed snow.
He scooped up small Red and turned quickly around,
And down to the front lawn they went with a bound:
Sock was dressed all in fur, from his cuff to the toes,
And his gusset was tarnished with god-only-knows;
A bundle of empties was flung on his back,
And he looked like a wino just opening his pack:
His eyes—how their lids drooped! His snout-face: how saggy,
His yarn-hair was mussed, his very self baggy;
His droll little mouth was agape like a fool’s,
And the drool of his chin was a’glist’ning like jewels;
The stump of a cork he held tight in his teeth,
And the smell, it made clear the hard drinker beneath.
He shot up rigid and gripped Raz’s belly
Then stood and walked off, his form wobbling like jelly:
He was tripping and tumbling, a right soused old sock,
And he came to the door and he gave it a knock;
A roll of Red’s eyes and a shake of his head
Soon gave Raz the notion to go on ahead
And open the door—Sock went straight to his work.
He filled all the stockings with empties, the jerk,
And laying his heel back against the fireplace
And giving a snort, he slumped down with no grace.
He turned his tired head, up to Raz and to Squirrel,
And shutting his eyes, tried his best not to hurl:
But they heard him mumble, ere he faded away—
“Happy New Year’s to all! Please ignore the delay…”
ROUND 74
STORY 1
Luna’s Coffee, by
Soaring
When Luna has one simple cup, she cannot help but stand and think for a while...
Princess Luna recalls her life so far with a cup of coffee in her magical grasp. Only problem: she
has day court in an hour.
Better get some more coffee, Luna.
You'll need it.
Though not written as poetry, there's a certain cyclic nature to this story and a very-nearly-metric
nature to its form. Not the modern sort of poetry, of rhyming couplet, carefully crafted, but instead
of older forms; the alliterative, the assonant, the verses tied by the writer's artifice.
I'm not a poet, but I like to read about them.
This simple structure is repeated throughout, examining a thought and then condensing it into a
single line. It is a litany of Luna's hates and loves, an exploration of her character, that begins with
the darkness of coffee, rides through the phases of her views toward life, justice and the study of
things, and returns to the empty cup, seeking a new drink. Whether intentional or not, the story
follows a cycle very similar to the phases of the moon. It waxes, bulges gibbous and wanes to a
sliver of thought, a summary of its entire form that reflects the whole.
It is a character study, one that seems more sympathetic than many. Luna here is a mare caught
out of time, but she is not adrift as in so many other works. Instead she is anchored by love of her
sister, her realm and, most importantly, her coffee. She revels in it, and immerses herself in it
(figuratively of course), and draws from it her strength. Yet at the same time, throughout the story,
there are hints of a darkness lurking beneath the surface. Glimpses of the capricious nature of the
moon, drawn to extremes and absolutes. For uniformity's sake she takes her coffee black,
perhaps to avoid seeing the clouds within, and like the moon to which she is bound, perhaps this
Luna is forever on the brink of becoming something else.
This is a fic that manages the almost unthinkable: It makes me want to drink coffee. To clarify this,
I am an avowed tea drinker who on a good day will affectionately refer to coffee as loathsome
sludge. The idea that a fic is so powerful as to give me charitable thoughts toward the stuff is
something of a miraculous event. Still not touching that Luwak stuff. Coffee poop, blegh.
The fic stands out for how it’s formatted and written. The author says it began life as a writing
exercise and to some extent it shows. A single line before each paragraph, and each follows the
next quite neatly. It looks distinct on the page before you even begin reading it, and it doesn’t fall
into the trap of unique formatting for the sake of it like some stories do.
It’s a stream of consciousness piece, but more refined in a way. The reader is allowed to know
what leads one thought to the next, something that in reality is often lacking. We’re made privy to
Luna’s idle thoughts as she has one last cup of coffee to keep her going before she nods off. We
hear her thoughts and worries, her hopes and dreams. It fits very nicely in itself. That idly half
asleep state you get into, where you brain relaxes and free-association comes naturally, though
without the need for inkblots.
I really found myself enjoying Luna’s characterization here. She’s perhaps formal on her exterior,
but inside she’s relaxed and enjoying herself in a quiet moment. She’s introspective without feeling
too buried in her own head, and still able to lead the reader through her mental landscape. This to
me, is a Luna worth getting to know.
STORY 2
The Equine Comedy, by
Pineta
Three tales to append to the Hearth’s Warming Eve story telling of the further adventures of
Commander Hurricane, Chancellor Puddinghead, and Princess Platinum; concerning politics, art,
sport, and sticky puddings. The early days of Equestria involved some quarrelling and
compromises as the three pony tribes learnt to work together and accept each others’ differences.
But mostly, it was about having fun together.
If this fic could be summed up in a single sentence, it would be: Oh my god, the puns.
Puns are an underrated art, with an ancient lineage. There are few who can pull them off; fewer
still who can weave them into a narrative and have that narrative remain entertaining, well-paced
and coherent. Pineta wields puns, wordplay, humour and the occasional meta-reference with the
skill of a master wordsmith, harking back to the very earliest days of the fandom without resorting
to saccharine, and dated memes, whilst remaining fresh and punchy compared to other, newer
fics by even the most competent of writers.
We have here a classic tale of cooperation between the tribes in their very earliest days as they
establish the activities and events that would become the foundational traditions of Equestria
several thousand years hence. Where some might resort to the dramatic and serious high fantasy
treatment, Pineta has instead opted to remain within the bounds of the show itself, employing the
sort of joyful, innocent wit that so endeared us to these colourful little catpigs in the first place.
I say innocent, but of course nothing truly is. If innocence is the state in which the subject is
entirely as it appears at first glance, this fic is about as innocent as a cribhouse whore. Every joke,
every line, every situation has an undercurrent or a double meaning that might escape first
viewing, but that rewards the reader on a subsequent travel through this fic, yet without being
puerile. The characterisation is neat and loyal to its period too, with each of the protagonists
displaying every trait we have come to love about them in spades.
Whilst it doesn't deal with grand ideas, nevertheless it creates a depth within its narrow confines
that is far more satisfying and leaves the reader content with its conclusion.
Some old stories drag, and really hammer home how old they are. Others are like slipping into a
favourite old sweater. I’m happy to say that this fic is solidly one of the latter. There are no
references to Faust, or twenty percent cooler to make readers cringe or roll their eyes indulgently,
only gentle nods to the past woven into a beautiful story of ponies coming together.
In case the cover art and description hasn’t explained, this is a story set just after the first
Hearthswarming Eve and is about the three pony tribes learning how to live with each other and
work together. Each chapter is a contained stand alone and focuses on showing how each tribe
grows closer to the other and revels in the differences and similarities each one has.
Whether it’s each tribe showing off how they make art, how you should get honey from a beehive,
or finding a game all ponies can play equally, these stories all delight. The author finds a beautiful
blend between real life history and pony and includes plenty of nods to our own pony history too. It
very much reads like an Asterix and Obelix comic with small jokes interspersed with intriguing
history tidbits without ever feeling too unbalanced. (If you don’t know these comics, you have my
sympathies.)
The founders and their leaders all have their own distinct personalities, and never feel like they’re
simply older versions of the main six. They each have their own strengths and foibles and never
feel too over the top despite how easy it would be to turn them into parody.
The small nods to old pony history are really nicely slipped in too. Whether it’s Puddinghead
singing the cupcakes song with different lyrics, or a nod to the games we’ve seen our ponies play,
it always feels familiar and sweet.
The nice thing about living in Appleloosa, Gilda has discovered, is that you don't have to share the skies with anyone else. There may not be many clouds in the sky for perching and napping, but a warm rock on a high pinnacle can work just as well.
The locals are at least tolerable. Earth ponies tend to be a simple, predictable bunch, prone to routine.
It's when you get out-of-towners coming through, though, that problems can erupt. Especially when too much hard cider is involved.
Canon has not been particularly kind to Gilda. Oh sure, she had her redemption moment, but something about the way her life worked out seemed a little... cruel. Unfair, perhaps. And perhaps a little convenient in its explanation for her behaviour.
Nightwalker's "My Father Used To Say" predates all of that, and frankly is all the better for it. The Gilda portrayed here is less a downtrodden wretch, more the free-spirited - and abrasive, maybe even callous - wanderer and flier that the fandom crafted after her first appearance. She is by turns familiar and alien, residing with ponies but most definitely not a part of their society - which I suppose you'd expect from an entry to the Outside Insight contest.
The frame is the meat of this story. Gilda's constant reminders to herself - and us - of what her father said keep pushing the story forward while giving us subtle insights into not only her relationship with the ponies, but also with the society she has left behind. We're presented with an image of her home life without the writer having to dive into constant asides and diversions to explain it. At the same time we're also given hints of the reasons she might have left it all behind, for there is a hint of regret in Gilda's adherence to the dictums of her father, coupled to the hints of rebellion that still seep through in her carefully planned rejection of the norms of Equestrian society.
For all that, Gilda is loyal to herself, her past and her current home, even if it is temptingly edible at times.
Gilda has always been an enjoyable character to me, both in canon and in fanfiction. I love the idea of a griffon living and being friends with ponies, who would ostensibly be prey to them. I love thinking and reading about how her mind works, how different things are to her. Whether it’s because she’s part of a proud race and everything is down to whether you can take someone on, or if it’s because they’re a more fighty species.
This is Gilda at her finest. Proud but still humble, haughty but still warm, and very insightful. She shows us her world through quotes from her father and it’s a beautiful framing device. Her father comes across as a wise older figure, the sort you can continue to look up to even after you grow up and realize they don’t raise the sun every morning.
The author does a really beautiful job of reminding us that Gilda is a griffon. Everything from what what says to how she says it reminds you she isn’t a pony. Small mentions like ‘On the other paw’ to larger things like discussing the difference between Pegasi and Griffon flight lessons all help to subtlely remind you of how different she truly is.
Gilda fits in here and if really shows. This is a character who has made her home here and fits with the locals. She is known and liked, and when tensions erupt, she knows her friends will support her decisions. This is gilda who has found a home and peace, and I’m happy to know that our favourite grumpy catbird has found such things on and off the screen.
Some ponies seem to be born knowing what they are meant to do. Some discover it. A few need to be shown. Star Swirl the Bearded was in this latter group. This entry of his journal recounts the encounter that turned an apprentice lens grinder into the greatest wizard of all time.
It feels nice to end these reviews on a similar theme to which they started. The circle, so easy to approximate, but so difficult to portray in perfection.
Here we find a story about Star Swirl, and how he was set upon his path by a single event in his early life. This is not a long tale, nor even a particularly novel one, nevertheless it contains within itself a very powerful portrayal of an idea that has often taunted us late at night.
What is destiny?
I found it interesting that Star Swirl's occupation prior to taking up his craft was the grinding of lenses. Tools by which the world can be seen more clearly match well with a figure who - as the lore implies - brought clarity to the world of magic and so much more. A wizard who - again, as the lore implies - foresaw so many things and wrote them down. A figure who examined the world in detail and wrote down so many of the rules that govern modern unicorn magic, yet who as often was unable to see the truth right in front of his face.
By now the observant reader has all but guessed the conceit of this tale but I won't spoil it, nor the tagging. There is always more to a well-written piece of fiction that a mere review can reveal, if you only have the eyes to see it.
This one is tricky to discuss as it’s such a small piece, yet so much happens in it, I’m worried I’ll spoil things if I say too much. It does make me ponder story tags, but I can get into that in a bit.
The story introduces us to a colt in olden times meeting a wizard. A truly terrifying event for the young colt, who wishes nothing more than to finish his apprentice duties polishing lenses and go hide from his master, but instead must contend with the aforementioned wizard.
The wizard does not introduce himself, but speaks to the colt in a remarkably intelligent fashion, asking him about his ambitions and what he thinks about in his idle moments. The colt is reluctant, stating his foolishness should not be allowed to waste the time of such an august personage. Said personage replies that he is both Court Wizard and Court Jester, and thus if the colt will not speak with a wizard, perhaps he’ll speak with a fool. The colt seems confused and after some hesitation admits, he’s always pondered the nature of life and time itself, among other things. Which naturally leads to him being mocked and teased by others around him. The wizard however praises him for these thoughts and states that a wise person must also ask questions that seem foolish to others, as ponies often become narrowminded without meaning to, and only by being thought foolish can one escape those trappings.
The characters are very well put together, and fit their narrative beautifully. Each one stands out and while a lot of the story is dialogue heavy, it never felt like they fell into the trap of talking heads or giving too much information to follow. Each tidbit of information is carefully doled out and never feels insignificant or tedious.
One thing that threw me about the story is the inclusion of a tragedy tag. At first I found I reread it, trying to fathom where the tragedy occurs, but I think it’s less a case that a tragedy occurs in the story itself, and more, a tragedy will occur in future and things are set in motion for it in the story. That is the tragedy of it, the fact that things have begun that cannot be changed.
"I'm not even going to try following that," said Pav. He was staring into a half empty cup of what had once been eggnog, but was now little more than suspiciously creamy rum. "Has anyone managed to wake up Sock?"
As a group the Angels turned to where Ferret sat, forlornly mushing her paws against a nog-soaked pile of cotton in the corner. She raised her face from the mess and shrugged.
"Maybe if Plum—" but Red was silenced by a glare from the Professor and an unmistakable shake of his head. "Then I guess we're out of luck, unless someone wants to bust Corejo out. Again."
"How about the intern?"
"Are you kidding? He's an ass," Red shot back.
"And you're a tree rat," a fresh voice slurred from beneath a nearby table, accompanied by the rattle of numerous empty bottles. "Gimme a pen."
Feel free to visit our group for more information and events, and to offer some recommendations for future rounds. See you all next time!
Only two reviewed stuff this round?
Also, whoever made that poem is a god.
~Skeeter The Lurker
Welcome our newest angel Archonix! He's a drunken sot, but we think he'll fit in juuust fine.
3659493
Only two people review stuff every round. At least, every round for the past eight months or so
Glad to see one of Soaring's stories get featured on here. He's a talented writer and deserves more appreciation.
I'll also check out some of the other stories featured this round as well. I could probably learn a thing or two from them when it comes to crafting good stories. Also, I do like the poem at the beginning.
I just got an Angels review.
Excuse me, I'm just going to be over here trying to sort out my emotions...
3659517
I'm currently in that state too. Feels all over the place.
3659500
Thank you, Archonix, and the rest of the Seattle's Angels for the review! Made my night!
3659502
Oh you!
3659528 Well, you've definitely earned such recognition. Keep up the good work!
unsubbed. this level of disrespect is intolerable. after all the toothbrushes I invested into this company this is what I get
3659493
I would not turn down some worship if you're… offering. (ba dum tiss)
i hate to say this in fear of getting banned
but is there any way to disable Sa reviews from my notifications
3660063
i.imgur.com/1O1c13U.png
Make it red, and they'll go away.
3660063 You don't get banned for asking questions.
3660132
3660110
k thank u both
I don't think I've read any of these THANKS A LOT SAI WAS WRONG I READ TWO OF THESE :B
So how badly did those lady stockings reject Sock if he had to booze this hard? I'm sure a quick drought of Getafix's brew will help him sober up.
3660779 Have you ever seen anything sadder than a wet Sock?
I need help sir
Since I like to respond to reviewers, I decided to write a blog about it. Thanks again for the review!
Wizards, Foals, and Fools is a story I can vouch for, and you folks should all go read it; it is quite good.
I like, And put my helmet to you. I do my stories for fun. NOT recognition. but IF I can get more to view and feel love for my work. The more I can produce the stories of the changelings.
A little belated, but thank you two very much for the kind words archonix and Themaskedferret! It was quite nice to see this review, though a heads up when it was posted would have been appreciated. Took me a little while to figure out why that story was suddenly getting all that traffic!
In the end it got the story another 14 likes, a second dislike (damn it), and a handful more favorites, so not too shabby. I'm glad that a lot of the character traits I wanted to show came through and that you were able to pick up on them. I've been wanting to revisit this Gilda again, both in the main story this is a pseudo-prequel to (way different tone to the story than this one. It's about 85-90% done, I just have to commit myself to writing the missing chunk) and a proper sequel that would deal with the reasons she ended up where we find her and why she first came to Ponyville. Amongst other stories to write.
Bleah, I got over writers block enough to put this story out once, I'll just have to do it again! Anyway, thank you again for the wonderful review and the many kind words!