So I got home from work today and my brother was watching 300 on Pay-Per-View. I hadn't actually seen 300 when it came out, so I settled down thinking that if nothing else I could just watch Gerard Butler's abs... ( but I ended up actively pissed off. )
So I got home from work today and my brother was watching 300 on Pay-Per-View. I hadn't actually seen 300 when it came out, so I settled down thinking that if nothing else I could just watch Gerard Butler's abs... ( but I ended up actively pissed off. )
Seeing Les Mis with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lady_iphigeneia again, back-to-back matinee and evening on Saturday the 24th. Which should be interesting this time round, because apparently Drew's still doing matinees. (And Daphne will be gone, and Nikki will be on. Yay!) If anyone wants to meet us there for coffee and/or see one of those shows, gimme a holler.
It should also be less bank-breaking this time round, since I got limited-view third-row orch right for the matinee and the cheap seats in the back for the evening show, as opposed to $120 orch center tickets for both shows like last time. And managed to find a bus ticket for $35, yay.
I was originally horribly bored by how dry Paris Between Empires was, but now I'm further in it's become rather entertaining--for a reason the author didn't quite intend. See, in the early chapters I thought his choice of wording and quotes showed a slight, annoying bias in favor of the Restoration and against the Revolution and the Empire, but thought I was reading too far into it. But the further I go, the more I'm starting to realize Mansel assumes his audience already knows for a fact that constitutional monarchy is awesomesticks, revolutions are embarrassing, and Buonaparté ate kittens for breakfast. And then he went and dedicated an entire chapter to how much Britain pwns. In a book about France.
...yeah. The factoids are interesting, but maaaan.
Strangers, on the other hand, is all sorts of shiny. In addition to being full of interesting and useful (if annoyingly undated; I don't want to end up using 1880s slang in a story set in 1830!) information, and giving me the "god, I know that feeling" warm-and-fuzzies a lot, it dedicates some of its space to completely smacking down Proust and the notion that homosexuality didn't exist before it was named and identified as such. Not enough to be annoying, or make it primarily a historians-sniping-at-each-other polemic instead of an actual useful book, but enough to make its point. And the more I read, the more I become convinced that all the Grantaire/Enjolras subtext in the Brick is not only a valid interpretation of canon, but entirely intentional on Hugo's part.mmebahorel and I were talking about this a bit when we got coffee after seeing Into the Woods last night; how the allusions Hugo uses provide a completely different view on some of the Amis than what's said straight-out in the text. I mean, Hugo doesn't come right out and say they were boinking each other's brains out (or wanted to), but when he goes and refers in quick succession to Antinous, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Orestes and Pylades, Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion, Nisus and Euryalus, etc. etc... there's no way he wouldn't have known he was basically going through the checklist of code words for homoerotic subtext. (Cf. Jean Prouvaire, who looks like a total pansy unless you look up his reading material.)
lady_iphigeneia again, back-to-back matinee and evening on Saturday the 24th. Which should be interesting this time round, because apparently Drew's still doing matinees. (And Daphne will be gone, and Nikki will be on. Yay!) If anyone wants to meet us there for coffee and/or see one of those shows, gimme a holler.It should also be less bank-breaking this time round, since I got limited-view third-row orch right for the matinee and the cheap seats in the back for the evening show, as opposed to $120 orch center tickets for both shows like last time. And managed to find a bus ticket for $35, yay.
I was originally horribly bored by how dry Paris Between Empires was, but now I'm further in it's become rather entertaining--for a reason the author didn't quite intend. See, in the early chapters I thought his choice of wording and quotes showed a slight, annoying bias in favor of the Restoration and against the Revolution and the Empire, but thought I was reading too far into it. But the further I go, the more I'm starting to realize Mansel assumes his audience already knows for a fact that constitutional monarchy is awesomesticks, revolutions are embarrassing, and Buonaparté ate kittens for breakfast. And then he went and dedicated an entire chapter to how much Britain pwns. In a book about France.
...yeah. The factoids are interesting, but maaaan.
Strangers, on the other hand, is all sorts of shiny. In addition to being full of interesting and useful (if annoyingly undated; I don't want to end up using 1880s slang in a story set in 1830!) information, and giving me the "god, I know that feeling" warm-and-fuzzies a lot, it dedicates some of its space to completely smacking down Proust and the notion that homosexuality didn't exist before it was named and identified as such. Not enough to be annoying, or make it primarily a historians-sniping-at-each-other polemic instead of an actual useful book, but enough to make its point. And the more I read, the more I become convinced that all the Grantaire/Enjolras subtext in the Brick is not only a valid interpretation of canon, but entirely intentional on Hugo's part.
mmebahorel and I were talking about this a bit when we got coffee after seeing Into the Woods last night; how the allusions Hugo uses provide a completely different view on some of the Amis than what's said straight-out in the text. I mean, Hugo doesn't come right out and say they were boinking each other's brains out (or wanted to), but when he goes and refers in quick succession to Antinous, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Orestes and Pylades, Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion, Nisus and Euryalus, etc. etc... there's no way he wouldn't have known he was basically going through the checklist of code words for homoerotic subtext. (Cf. Jean Prouvaire, who looks like a total pansy unless you look up his reading material.)Seeing Les Mis with lady_iphigeneia again, back-to-back matinee and evening on Saturday the 24th. Which should be interesting this time round, because apparently Drew's still doing matinees. (And Daphne will be gone, and Nikki will be on. Yay!) If anyone wants to meet us there for coffee and/or see one of those shows, gimme a holler.
It should also be less bank-breaking this time round, since I got limited-view third-row orch right for the matinee and the cheap seats in the back for the evening show, as opposed to $120 orch center tickets for both shows like last time. And managed to find a bus ticket for $35, yay.
I was originally horribly bored by how dry Paris Between Empires was, but now I'm further in it's become rather entertaining--for a reason the author didn't quite intend. See, in the early chapters I thought his choice of wording and quotes showed a slight, annoying bias in favor of the Restoration and against the Revolution and the Empire, but thought I was reading too far into it. But the further I go, the more I'm starting to realize Mansel assumes his audience already knows for a fact that constitutional monarchy is awesomesticks, revolutions are embarrassing, and Buonaparté ate kittens for breakfast. And then he went and dedicated an entire chapter to how much Britain pwns. In a book about France.
...yeah. The factoids are interesting, but maaaan.
Strangers, on the other hand, is all sorts of shiny. In addition to being full of interesting and useful (if annoyingly undated; I don't want to end up using 1880s slang in a story set in 1830!) information, and giving me the "god, I know that feeling" warm-and-fuzzies a lot, it dedicates some of its space to completely smacking down Proust and the notion that homosexuality didn't exist before it was named and identified as such. Not enough to be annoying, or make it primarily a historians-sniping-at-each-other polemic instead of an actual useful book, but enough to make its point. And the more I read, the more I become convinced that all the Grantaire/Enjolras subtext in the Brick is not only a valid interpretation of canon, but entirely intentional on Hugo's part.mmebahorel and I were talking about this a bit when we got coffee after seeing Into the Woods last night; how the allusions Hugo uses provide a completely different view on some of the Amis than what's said straight-out in the text. I mean, Hugo doesn't come right out and say they were boinking each other's brains out (or wanted to), but when he goes and refers in quick succession to Antinous, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Orestes and Pylades, Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion, Nisus and Euryalus, etc. etc... there's no way he wouldn't have known he was basically going through the checklist of code words for homoerotic subtext. (Cf. Jean Prouvaire, who looks like a total pansy unless you look up his reading material.)
lady_iphigeneia again, back-to-back matinee and evening on Saturday the 24th. Which should be interesting this time round, because apparently Drew's still doing matinees. (And Daphne will be gone, and Nikki will be on. Yay!) If anyone wants to meet us there for coffee and/or see one of those shows, gimme a holler.It should also be less bank-breaking this time round, since I got limited-view third-row orch right for the matinee and the cheap seats in the back for the evening show, as opposed to $120 orch center tickets for both shows like last time. And managed to find a bus ticket for $35, yay.
I was originally horribly bored by how dry Paris Between Empires was, but now I'm further in it's become rather entertaining--for a reason the author didn't quite intend. See, in the early chapters I thought his choice of wording and quotes showed a slight, annoying bias in favor of the Restoration and against the Revolution and the Empire, but thought I was reading too far into it. But the further I go, the more I'm starting to realize Mansel assumes his audience already knows for a fact that constitutional monarchy is awesomesticks, revolutions are embarrassing, and Buonaparté ate kittens for breakfast. And then he went and dedicated an entire chapter to how much Britain pwns. In a book about France.
...yeah. The factoids are interesting, but maaaan.
Strangers, on the other hand, is all sorts of shiny. In addition to being full of interesting and useful (if annoyingly undated; I don't want to end up using 1880s slang in a story set in 1830!) information, and giving me the "god, I know that feeling" warm-and-fuzzies a lot, it dedicates some of its space to completely smacking down Proust and the notion that homosexuality didn't exist before it was named and identified as such. Not enough to be annoying, or make it primarily a historians-sniping-at-each-other polemic instead of an actual useful book, but enough to make its point. And the more I read, the more I become convinced that all the Grantaire/Enjolras subtext in the Brick is not only a valid interpretation of canon, but entirely intentional on Hugo's part.
mmebahorel and I were talking about this a bit when we got coffee after seeing Into the Woods last night; how the allusions Hugo uses provide a completely different view on some of the Amis than what's said straight-out in the text. I mean, Hugo doesn't come right out and say they were boinking each other's brains out (or wanted to), but when he goes and refers in quick succession to Antinous, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Orestes and Pylades, Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion, Nisus and Euryalus, etc. etc... there's no way he wouldn't have known he was basically going through the checklist of code words for homoerotic subtext. (Cf. Jean Prouvaire, who looks like a total pansy unless you look up his reading material.)It's always rather disappointing when you're browsing around the bookstore and come across a bit of historical fiction with a beautiful cover and an attractive summary... only to start skimming it and realize it's half poorly written costume drama and half thinly disguised gloating about how much more Liberated we are nowadays.
Transparent and anachronistic pseudo-feminism in historical fiction makes the baby Susan B. Anthony cry. Especially when it tops the NYT bestseller list.
Transparent and anachronistic pseudo-feminism in historical fiction makes the baby Susan B. Anthony cry. Especially when it tops the NYT bestseller list.
It's always rather disappointing when you're browsing around the bookstore and come across a bit of historical fiction with a beautiful cover and an attractive summary... only to start skimming it and realize it's half poorly written costume drama and half thinly disguised gloating about how much more Liberated we are nowadays.
Transparent and anachronistic pseudo-feminism in historical fiction makes the baby Susan B. Anthony cry. Especially when it tops the NYT bestseller list.
Transparent and anachronistic pseudo-feminism in historical fiction makes the baby Susan B. Anthony cry. Especially when it tops the NYT bestseller list.
Fanon Grantaire must die.
Jul. 28th, 2006 03:00I can't sleep and I have too much time on my hands, so you get another fandom rant.
( Ewww, existential angst!Grantaire. )
( Ewww, existential angst!Grantaire. )
Fanon Grantaire must die.
Jul. 28th, 2006 03:00I can't sleep and I have too much time on my hands, so you get another fandom rant.
( Ewww, existential angst!Grantaire. )
( Ewww, existential angst!Grantaire. )
A short rant about French grammar:
'Le,' 'la,' and 'les' all correspond to English 'the,' depending on whether the word that follows is masculine, feminine, or plural.
'Les Amis' literally means 'the Friends.' The next time I see 'the Les Amis' or 'an Amis' or any other butchering of a very simple grammatical concept, I might have to choke a bitch.
Also, note to vendors of books, movies, and music: 'les' means 'the.' Do you put 'The Shining' under the 'T' section? I didn't think so. Kindly file Les Mis under 'M.'
'Le,' 'la,' and 'les' all correspond to English 'the,' depending on whether the word that follows is masculine, feminine, or plural.
'Les Amis' literally means 'the Friends.' The next time I see 'the Les Amis' or 'an Amis' or any other butchering of a very simple grammatical concept, I might have to choke a bitch.
Also, note to vendors of books, movies, and music: 'les' means 'the.' Do you put 'The Shining' under the 'T' section? I didn't think so. Kindly file Les Mis under 'M.'
A short rant about French grammar:
'Le,' 'la,' and 'les' all correspond to English 'the,' depending on whether the word that follows is masculine, feminine, or plural.
'Les Amis' literally means 'the Friends.' The next time I see 'the Les Amis' or 'an Amis' or any other butchering of a very simple grammatical concept, I might have to choke a bitch.
Also, note to vendors of books, movies, and music: 'les' means 'the.' Do you put 'The Shining' under the 'T' section? I didn't think so. Kindly file Les Mis under 'M.'
'Le,' 'la,' and 'les' all correspond to English 'the,' depending on whether the word that follows is masculine, feminine, or plural.
'Les Amis' literally means 'the Friends.' The next time I see 'the Les Amis' or 'an Amis' or any other butchering of a very simple grammatical concept, I might have to choke a bitch.
Also, note to vendors of books, movies, and music: 'les' means 'the.' Do you put 'The Shining' under the 'T' section? I didn't think so. Kindly file Les Mis under 'M.'
(no subject)
Apr. 17th, 2006 12:43Some more random meta that Lulu and I were discussing in the car, because I have Arabic homework to procrastinate on:
The ending of the musical version of LM feels so tacked on. It's like they looked at the second act and went "Shit, this turned out wrist-slittingly angsty despite the fact that the book is actually bizarrely uplifting. Oh well, let's toss in something about living again in freedom in the garden of the Lord, that'll make everyone feel better." And really, that last bit is one of the few parts of Act II that sounds like Les Misérables to me--in message, not in events, they got the events right enough and completely screwed up what they're supposed to mean.
I mean, look at the biggest "that didn't happen!"/"how out-of-character!" moments. Bring Him Home, Turning, Empty Chairs, all this fucking existential angst about how people are dying meaninglessly. This is Hugo, ferchrissakes, nobody dies meaninglessly, and when people start kicking the bucket en masse the view is always towards the future, not looking back and going "boo-hoo, they're all dead." And yet the musical has whining and regrets in spades, with only one measly "let others rise!" to indicate there might be something brighter on the horizon. Then along comes the ending with its "But it's all gonna be okay, because Mister Hugo says that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!" bullshit, paying lip service to the theme of the novel after just contradicting it and beating it into the dust for the past hour and a half. It's like, okay, if you don't want to endorse the Romantic school's painfully optimistic views of progress, maybe you should be adapting something else. The show ends up telling us that society is advancing towards something better, but showing us a different perspective entirely. And it feels wrong. And tacked on. And augh, I've been feeling some serious antipathy towards the musical lately, what with all the whining and OOCness and blatant contradiction of Hugo's actual message. *twitch*
So yes. This has been your random meta of the day. Carry on.
The ending of the musical version of LM feels so tacked on. It's like they looked at the second act and went "Shit, this turned out wrist-slittingly angsty despite the fact that the book is actually bizarrely uplifting. Oh well, let's toss in something about living again in freedom in the garden of the Lord, that'll make everyone feel better." And really, that last bit is one of the few parts of Act II that sounds like Les Misérables to me--in message, not in events, they got the events right enough and completely screwed up what they're supposed to mean.
I mean, look at the biggest "that didn't happen!"/"how out-of-character!" moments. Bring Him Home, Turning, Empty Chairs, all this fucking existential angst about how people are dying meaninglessly. This is Hugo, ferchrissakes, nobody dies meaninglessly, and when people start kicking the bucket en masse the view is always towards the future, not looking back and going "boo-hoo, they're all dead." And yet the musical has whining and regrets in spades, with only one measly "let others rise!" to indicate there might be something brighter on the horizon. Then along comes the ending with its "But it's all gonna be okay, because Mister Hugo says that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!" bullshit, paying lip service to the theme of the novel after just contradicting it and beating it into the dust for the past hour and a half. It's like, okay, if you don't want to endorse the Romantic school's painfully optimistic views of progress, maybe you should be adapting something else. The show ends up telling us that society is advancing towards something better, but showing us a different perspective entirely. And it feels wrong. And tacked on. And augh, I've been feeling some serious antipathy towards the musical lately, what with all the whining and OOCness and blatant contradiction of Hugo's actual message. *twitch*
So yes. This has been your random meta of the day. Carry on.
(no subject)
Apr. 17th, 2006 12:43Some more random meta that Lulu and I were discussing in the car, because I have Arabic homework to procrastinate on:
The ending of the musical version of LM feels so tacked on. It's like they looked at the second act and went "Shit, this turned out wrist-slittingly angsty despite the fact that the book is actually bizarrely uplifting. Oh well, let's toss in something about living again in freedom in the garden of the Lord, that'll make everyone feel better." And really, that last bit is one of the few parts of Act II that sounds like Les Misérables to me--in message, not in events, they got the events right enough and completely screwed up what they're supposed to mean.
I mean, look at the biggest "that didn't happen!"/"how out-of-character!" moments. Bring Him Home, Turning, Empty Chairs, all this fucking existential angst about how people are dying meaninglessly. This is Hugo, ferchrissakes, nobody dies meaninglessly, and when people start kicking the bucket en masse the view is always towards the future, not looking back and going "boo-hoo, they're all dead." And yet the musical has whining and regrets in spades, with only one measly "let others rise!" to indicate there might be something brighter on the horizon. Then along comes the ending with its "But it's all gonna be okay, because Mister Hugo says that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!" bullshit, paying lip service to the theme of the novel after just contradicting it and beating it into the dust for the past hour and a half. It's like, okay, if you don't want to endorse the Romantic school's painfully optimistic views of progress, maybe you should be adapting something else. The show ends up telling us that society is advancing towards something better, but showing us a different perspective entirely. And it feels wrong. And tacked on. And augh, I've been feeling some serious antipathy towards the musical lately, what with all the whining and OOCness and blatant contradiction of Hugo's actual message. *twitch*
So yes. This has been your random meta of the day. Carry on.
The ending of the musical version of LM feels so tacked on. It's like they looked at the second act and went "Shit, this turned out wrist-slittingly angsty despite the fact that the book is actually bizarrely uplifting. Oh well, let's toss in something about living again in freedom in the garden of the Lord, that'll make everyone feel better." And really, that last bit is one of the few parts of Act II that sounds like Les Misérables to me--in message, not in events, they got the events right enough and completely screwed up what they're supposed to mean.
I mean, look at the biggest "that didn't happen!"/"how out-of-character!" moments. Bring Him Home, Turning, Empty Chairs, all this fucking existential angst about how people are dying meaninglessly. This is Hugo, ferchrissakes, nobody dies meaninglessly, and when people start kicking the bucket en masse the view is always towards the future, not looking back and going "boo-hoo, they're all dead." And yet the musical has whining and regrets in spades, with only one measly "let others rise!" to indicate there might be something brighter on the horizon. Then along comes the ending with its "But it's all gonna be okay, because Mister Hugo says that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!" bullshit, paying lip service to the theme of the novel after just contradicting it and beating it into the dust for the past hour and a half. It's like, okay, if you don't want to endorse the Romantic school's painfully optimistic views of progress, maybe you should be adapting something else. The show ends up telling us that society is advancing towards something better, but showing us a different perspective entirely. And it feels wrong. And tacked on. And augh, I've been feeling some serious antipathy towards the musical lately, what with all the whining and OOCness and blatant contradiction of Hugo's actual message. *twitch*
So yes. This has been your random meta of the day. Carry on.
More Miz. As usual.
Mar. 22nd, 2006 01:27Okay. Another fandomy post, Les Mis this time, and hopefully short because I'm tired and I have a test in the morning I'm totally going to bomb.
And look! It's so short I'm not even going to LJ-cut it!
Do not bash Cosette. Just don't. Oh, she's 'too perfect,' is she? Too boring and normal? Look at her from the objective viewpoint of 19th century society: Cosette is the illegitimate daughter of a streetwalker, stolen from her guardians--honest folk who took her in out of charity--by an ex-convict who then raised her in seclusion. Hugo made her turn out sweet and normal and generally ideal for a reason. Almost all of the more painfully virtuous characters of LM are in fact the dregs of their society, and Hugo is out to show that if you toss them in with such respectable personages as a policemen and a family of innkeepers, they can in fact be the most likeable of the lot.
Or put it another way. Cosette may appear ditzy and bubble-headed and even weak to us more liberated folk, but think for a moment about her life with the Thénardiers. Pleasant and completely non-traumatizing, huh? Cosette came out of a completely crap childhood happy and well-adjusted, and that says so much more for one's strength of character than donning pants and chasing one's beloved to the barricades to die.
[Random tangent on other Virtuous Dregs of Society: Fanfiction focuses mostly on character and relationship study, yes? Rather than plot and symbolism? No wonder there's so little fic out there for Valjean and Fantine.]
[ETA random tangent #2: Eponine does not hate Cosette. She may resent her, but she would not wish harm upon her, because Cosette makes Marius happy and Eponine likes happy Marius. If Eponine wished harm upon Cosette, she had more than enough opportunity to inflict it--how hard would it have been to tell Patron-Minette that the house on the Rue Plumet wasn't safe to rob that night but they could come back tomorrow, and then divert Marius the next night and leave Cosette to the tender mercies of her father's gang? Eponine is resourceful and manipulative as hell. If she'd wanted to hurt Cosette, she would have.]
And look! It's so short I'm not even going to LJ-cut it!
Do not bash Cosette. Just don't. Oh, she's 'too perfect,' is she? Too boring and normal? Look at her from the objective viewpoint of 19th century society: Cosette is the illegitimate daughter of a streetwalker, stolen from her guardians--honest folk who took her in out of charity--by an ex-convict who then raised her in seclusion. Hugo made her turn out sweet and normal and generally ideal for a reason. Almost all of the more painfully virtuous characters of LM are in fact the dregs of their society, and Hugo is out to show that if you toss them in with such respectable personages as a policemen and a family of innkeepers, they can in fact be the most likeable of the lot.
Or put it another way. Cosette may appear ditzy and bubble-headed and even weak to us more liberated folk, but think for a moment about her life with the Thénardiers. Pleasant and completely non-traumatizing, huh? Cosette came out of a completely crap childhood happy and well-adjusted, and that says so much more for one's strength of character than donning pants and chasing one's beloved to the barricades to die.
[Random tangent on other Virtuous Dregs of Society: Fanfiction focuses mostly on character and relationship study, yes? Rather than plot and symbolism? No wonder there's so little fic out there for Valjean and Fantine.]
[ETA random tangent #2: Eponine does not hate Cosette. She may resent her, but she would not wish harm upon her, because Cosette makes Marius happy and Eponine likes happy Marius. If Eponine wished harm upon Cosette, she had more than enough opportunity to inflict it--how hard would it have been to tell Patron-Minette that the house on the Rue Plumet wasn't safe to rob that night but they could come back tomorrow, and then divert Marius the next night and leave Cosette to the tender mercies of her father's gang? Eponine is resourceful and manipulative as hell. If she'd wanted to hurt Cosette, she would have.]
More Miz. As usual.
Mar. 22nd, 2006 01:27Okay. Another fandomy post, Les Mis this time, and hopefully short because I'm tired and I have a test in the morning I'm totally going to bomb.
And look! It's so short I'm not even going to LJ-cut it!
Do not bash Cosette. Just don't. Oh, she's 'too perfect,' is she? Too boring and normal? Look at her from the objective viewpoint of 19th century society: Cosette is the illegitimate daughter of a streetwalker, stolen from her guardians--honest folk who took her in out of charity--by an ex-convict who then raised her in seclusion. Hugo made her turn out sweet and normal and generally ideal for a reason. Almost all of the more painfully virtuous characters of LM are in fact the dregs of their society, and Hugo is out to show that if you toss them in with such respectable personages as a policemen and a family of innkeepers, they can in fact be the most likeable of the lot.
Or put it another way. Cosette may appear ditzy and bubble-headed and even weak to us more liberated folk, but think for a moment about her life with the Thénardiers. Pleasant and completely non-traumatizing, huh? Cosette came out of a completely crap childhood happy and well-adjusted, and that says so much more for one's strength of character than donning pants and chasing one's beloved to the barricades to die.
[Random tangent on other Virtuous Dregs of Society: Fanfiction focuses mostly on character and relationship study, yes? Rather than plot and symbolism? No wonder there's so little fic out there for Valjean and Fantine.]
[ETA random tangent #2: Eponine does not hate Cosette. She may resent her, but she would not wish harm upon her, because Cosette makes Marius happy and Eponine likes happy Marius. If Eponine wished harm upon Cosette, she had more than enough opportunity to inflict it--how hard would it have been to tell Patron-Minette that the house on the Rue Plumet wasn't safe to rob that night but they could come back tomorrow, and then divert Marius the next night and leave Cosette to the tender mercies of her father's gang? Eponine is resourceful and manipulative as hell. If she'd wanted to hurt Cosette, she would have.]
And look! It's so short I'm not even going to LJ-cut it!
Do not bash Cosette. Just don't. Oh, she's 'too perfect,' is she? Too boring and normal? Look at her from the objective viewpoint of 19th century society: Cosette is the illegitimate daughter of a streetwalker, stolen from her guardians--honest folk who took her in out of charity--by an ex-convict who then raised her in seclusion. Hugo made her turn out sweet and normal and generally ideal for a reason. Almost all of the more painfully virtuous characters of LM are in fact the dregs of their society, and Hugo is out to show that if you toss them in with such respectable personages as a policemen and a family of innkeepers, they can in fact be the most likeable of the lot.
Or put it another way. Cosette may appear ditzy and bubble-headed and even weak to us more liberated folk, but think for a moment about her life with the Thénardiers. Pleasant and completely non-traumatizing, huh? Cosette came out of a completely crap childhood happy and well-adjusted, and that says so much more for one's strength of character than donning pants and chasing one's beloved to the barricades to die.
[Random tangent on other Virtuous Dregs of Society: Fanfiction focuses mostly on character and relationship study, yes? Rather than plot and symbolism? No wonder there's so little fic out there for Valjean and Fantine.]
[ETA random tangent #2: Eponine does not hate Cosette. She may resent her, but she would not wish harm upon her, because Cosette makes Marius happy and Eponine likes happy Marius. If Eponine wished harm upon Cosette, she had more than enough opportunity to inflict it--how hard would it have been to tell Patron-Minette that the house on the Rue Plumet wasn't safe to rob that night but they could come back tomorrow, and then divert Marius the next night and leave Cosette to the tender mercies of her father's gang? Eponine is resourceful and manipulative as hell. If she'd wanted to hurt Cosette, she would have.]
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