

Moderator: Seareach
Bill Foley: Just finished re-reading the 1st Chronicles as an appetizer to Runes and my head is abuzz...
I'm hoping that you might be willing to bring into sharper focus the revelation that High Lord Mhoram has leading into the Power that Preserves that enables him to unlock his additional power (knowledge of the Ritual of Desecration, blue flicker in the Krill, etc.).
I understand that his "secret" deals with overcoming the limits imposed by the Oath of Peace but I seem to want to understand it a little bit more literally. Is it that power requires a willingness to harm, hate or do violence? Something like that? (Again, looking for a "tune-up" here...)
I'm also interested to know how the inspiration for his understanding was found in Elena's Marrowmeld sculpture of Covenant/Bannor. In what way didthis trigger his understanding?
Thanks!
I can't actually tell you how Mhoram's imagination/insight works: hell, I don't know how *mine* works. But I think I do know *what* he saw: the empowering paradox of passion and discipline.
That's cryptic, I know. There's no good way to explain the potential hidden within paradoxes. But look at it this way. The Oath of Peace is, in effect, "modeled" on the Bloodguard. (I mean thematically, not literally.) The Bloodguard are all about emotional control: so is the Oath of Peace. Witness Atiaran's appeal to Triock when he wants to kill Covenant--and her own subsequent attitudes. Covenant, on the other hand, is all about passion (in this context, "passion" means "intense emotion"). Witness his rape of Lena, and the way he wears his emotions on his sleeve.
Elena's marrowmeld sculpture put forward the notion that the control of the Bloodguard and the passion of Covenant are two faces of the same dilemma (the need of passion to be controlled, the need of control to be enlivened by passion); and that those two faces can be combined into one.
From this, Mhoram extracted the understanding that the Oath of Peace has been, well, misapplied. It is literally a prescription for behavior; but it has been taken as a proscription against passion. Yet passion is power, as Covenant so often demonstrates. (And power is dangerous: therefore the Bloodguard knowingly, and the people of the Land unwittingly, have suppressed their access to it.) Mhoram learned to find his own version of "the eye of the paradox": the point where both passion and control can be affirmed.
Mhoram's great insight most definitely does *not* involve "a willingness to harm, hate, or do violence." Rather it involves a willingness or ability to make choices which are not ruled or controlled by passion (e.g. hate, anger, despair, or fear), and then to act on those choices with absolute passion.
Blake wrote, "Reason is the circumference of energy." Gichin Funakoshi wrote, "If your hand goes forth, withhold your anger. If your anger goes forth, withhold your hand." Someone (I've forgotten who) wrote, "Beauty is controlled passion." Mhoram learned to understand this. The fatal flaw of the Haruchai (and of Atiaran, and of Trell, and of Troy, and of the Unhomed, and of Kevin--and of Covenant early on) is that they did not.
(11/24/2004)
Peter Hunt: Mr Donaldson,
thank you for 20 years of wonderful and immersive storytelling. I was lucky enough to meet you during your visit to San Francisco last month, but was too awe-struck to be coherant when you signed my copy of Runes. So please accept my thanks retrospectively <g>.
Can you help me understand the relationship between Law, Earthpower and the Staff of Law? Am I right in thinking that the destruction of the Staff weakened the structure of Law? Did that destruction make existing Laws easier to break, and Earthpower easier to corrupt?
Did the creation of the new Staff at the end of the Second Chronicles restore the broken Laws (of death, Life, etc)?
These matters are all so intuitively, well, obvious to me that I find it difficult to actually explain them. <sigh>
Let's start with Law (structure, rules, governing principles) and Earthpower (energy, vital substance). Think of our solar system. If the planets weren't in furious motion (energy), they would fall into the sun and burn up: if the planets weren't tethered by gravity (structure), they would simply sail away. Without that balance between energy and constraint, nothing could exist. (Of course, to a physicist, it's all energy in one form of another. But still the energy of gravity has to balance the energy of motion, or else nothing could exist.)
Now. The Staff of Law was created as a means to wield the energy of Earthpower safely--i.e. without violating the various constraints of Law. But because this is magic rather than technology (because it deals in symbolic unities rather than in discrete mechanisms), the Staff cannot be inherently separate from the forces and rules which it exerts. It's not a light switch, essentially distinct from the flow of electricity which it enables. In a certain sense, the Staff *is* both Law and Earthpower, just as white gold *is* wild magic. In fantasy, in magic, the tool cannot be distinguished from what the tool does.
So. Even though the Staff was never essential to the original existence of either Law or Earthpower, the simple fact of its creation means that it participates in both, and can therefore: a) strengthen both, or b) weaken both (by being destroyed). So yes, the destruction of the original Staff weakened the structure of Law.
But. This is does *not* imply that Linden's creation of a new Staff *automatically* restores the structure of Law to its original form. A tool has to be used to be effective; and the person using the tool has to know what he/she is doing. Linden, and then Sunder and Hollian, clearly have the spirit and the heart to use the Staff effectively; but they don't necessarily have the lore, the knowledge, to accomplish everything that the Staff is capable of doing. (The absence of runes on the new Staff is not an accident.) Also the new Staff is profoundly different than Berek's original creation. It was formed, not from the wood of the One Tree, but from one sentient (Findail) and one quasi-sentient (Vain) being, each of whose nature affects the inherent qualities of both the new Staff and what the new Staff can do. (And then there's the interesting question of whether Sunder and Hollian would actually *want* to heal the broken Law of Life, since by doing so they might undo themselves.) And in addition: when the new Staff was created, it became an inherent participant in both Law and Earthpower, just as Berek's did; BUT the *condition* of Law and Earthpower when Linden created her Staff was different than it was when Berek created his; and therefore the *condition* of the new Staff is also different.
So. The creation of the new Staff did not *in itself* restore the broken Laws of Death and Life. Presumably it *could*. If the right wielder used it in the right way. But that hasn't happened yet.
<whew>
(12/20/2004)
Comments?When your favorite writers collide...This is from Stephen R. Donaldson's "gradual interview" on stephenrdonaldson.com. I love the works of both men, and it's a shame that Donaldson is so dismissive of OSC (I have only a vague notion that OSC likes, or did like, some of Donaldson's work, so I don't know how mutual the antipathy might be).Q. Myself and a friend at work found one distinct similarity between your writings and Orson Scott Card's, and that is the emotionally exhausting levels of experiences the characters go through. Apart from the Gap and Covenant books, the most emotionally-charged books I've read were the Ender books by Mr. Card. Have you read them and if so, what are your particular thoughts on the writings?
A. I don't read Card because I don't approve of his stand on censorship (he's all in favor--as long as the Mormons get to do the censoring).
Any SRD fans have an idea of where Steve got his "censorship" notion from?
I don't want to pick this apart, or really discuss it, because if I were Mr. Donaldson I would probably be unable to help myself from reading the Gradual Interview Thread, if I knew it existed, and doing so would only discourage answers like this.... but I do want to say one thing...Laura: Mr. Donaldson:
Your books were passed around my college campus (never *mind* how many years ago that was!). They astonished me - they still do. As soon as I heard that The Runes of the Earth was out, I purchased it and immediately called in sick for the next day, knowing I would be up all night reading. (For the record, I made it until 2:30 AM, and sheepishly went in to work anyway. Love that protestant work ethic and all...) I find myself stopping every once in a while to laugh in delight and chagrin. Thank you.
I had a kidney transplant a few years ago. After having been desperately ill for so long (and feeling my mental faculties slip away as my blood became a toxic soup), I re-read Mordant's Need, overjoyed that what had been beyond me for three years was finally back within my grasp. Thank you for that, as well - it kept me sane.
My question is this - where and how, oh please!, tell me how?, did you acquire your incredible vocabulary?
My second question is a bit more complex. How did you learn despair? And how did you find your way to hold it at bay?
Laura
I've already discussed vocabulary in this interview. The short answer: I compile word lists when I read; then I look those words up and try to become familiar with them. Recently Tennyson's "Idylls of the King" has been a rich source.
How did I learn despair? And how do I hold it at bay? Gosh, we could spend days on such topics without necessarily shedding any light. I'll be cryptically brief. "When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you." Well, I'm too bright, and I've experienced too much abuse, to be able to avoid looking into the abyss. Regularly. But when the abyss looks into me, it sees a fighter. The fact that this is *not* what most people see when they look at me is irrelevant.
Or approaching the question from a different direction: I think there are basically two kinds of people in the world, those who are diminished by their pains, problems, and losses, and those who learn and grow because of what they suffer. Long ago I chose to be one of the latter. Not because I possess any particular wisdom, courage, or strength, but because I found the sense of helplessness that I felt when I looked into the abyss intolerable--and I disliked my only obvious alternative (suicide). So I decided to believe that there are no conditions under which it is impossible to give battle. This is not a statement about "conditions" (many of which might legitimately be described as hopeless): it's a statement about *me*. If a situation appears hopeless to me, that simply means I need to learn how to perceive it differently: as an opportunity rather than as a blank wall.
This ain't easy, and I don't do it gracefully. Nevertheless my theme song is Simon and Garfunkle's "The Boxer," the last verse of which (if memory serves) goes like this: "In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade; and he carries the reminder of every glove that put him down or cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame, 'I am leaving, I am leaving!' But the fighter still remains."
And *that*, my friends, is more personal revelation than I usually allow myself.
I posted this in announcements too. Looks like Revenant is well under way!!SRD wrote:First, a bit of trivia for regular contributers to the Gradual Interview: I'm now 193 questions behind. The good news? I'm so far behind because I'm working hard on "Fatal Revenant."
I think that that is one of the most important things that he has ever said in the GI.In the Gradual Interview SRD wrote:But the underlying assumptions of fantasy are not so rational: they are, in a sense, a-rational (rather than non-rational or irrational), arising as they do from that aspect of the human mind which creates dreams. I was--and am--acutely reluctant to impose the wrong kind of rationality on the story I'm trying to tell in the "Chronicles."