Don’t be ashamed to weep; ’tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us. There is only one god and his name is Death.
***
“In order to get inside their skin, I have to identify with them. That includes even the ones who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed weasels and stoats and even ferrets with serious psychological problems. Even them. When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain – if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection.”
***
There was tender freshwater shrimp garnished with cream and rose leaves, devilled barley pearls in acorn puree, apple and carrot chews, marinated cabbage stalks steeped in creamed white turnip with nutmeg. And while the water-voles and the church-mice were feasting, the Lord of the Pine-Martens sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily. He would watch them burn. He would take their women and harvest their screams. He would set their feet to dancing and twisting from the treetops ’til they twitched no more against a silent sky, and he would sleep soundly tonight.
***
To table, to table, and eat what you may,
Come brothers, come sisters, come all.
Be happy, be joyful, upon our feast day,
Eight seasons of peace in Redwall.
So sing from dusk to dawn
And let the Abbey bells ring.
The sun will bring the morn,
And still we will merrily sing.
And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must sing along?
You can raise your voice a’loud
But is your arm as strong?
Come, leave your whoresons in the field
Let the bitch-girls keep their place
The men shall fight; the dead shall yield
The victors flay their face.
***
“Be careful, lad,” Bertram, the wisest hare of them all, cautioned Matthew the Warrior as they crossed the threshold. “They say Timothy the Vole takes all his sisters to wife, and feeds the product of their union to his unseelie, eyeless gods.”
“You say that about everyone,” Matthew answered crossly.
“Well, it’s true about everyone,” Bertram said mildly, “here in the land of Sister-Taking and Infant-Sorrow. This is the most vicious part of the Blood District in all the Screaming Counties.”
***
“Life is very full of sex, or should be. As much as I admire Tolkien — and I do, he was a giant of fantasy and a giant of literature, and I think he wrote a great book that will be read for many years — you do have to wonder where all those Hobbits came from, since you can’t imagine Hobbits having sex, can you? Well, sex is an important part of who field mice are. It drives them, it motivates them, it makes them do sometimes very noble things and it makes them do sometimes incredibly stupid things. Leave it out, and you’ve got an incomplete world. Badgers fuck one another. There’s just no two ways about it.”
***
Mattimeo, Champion of Redwall, flung his stave to the ground and leaned against a nearby oak, its leaves filtering in the soft summer light of the early autumn.
“Tarquin, my old friend,” he said to the hare beside him, “I need to lay in the arms of a good whore tonight.”
“All whores are good whores,” the hare replied, tilting his hat below his eyes as he rested his head against a low-hanging bough, “provided they part their legs as easily as this tree parts its branches for me.”
***
You will find joy, frustration and sorrow in your quest. Never forget that friendship and loyalty are more precious than riches. Defend the weak, protect both young and old, never desert your friends. Give justice to all, be fearless in battle and always ready to defend the right. Your bitch mother whelped you in pain, and you will die nameless in the dirt. The only joy between you and the grave lies in watching your enemies bleed before you do.
***
Even the strongest and bravest must sometimes weep. It shows they have a great heart, one that can feel compassion for others. You are brave, Matthias. Already you have done great things for one so young. I am only a simple country-bred fieldmouse, but even I can see the courage and leadership in you. A burning brand shows the way, and each day your flame grows brighter. There is none like you, Matthias. You have the sign of greatness upon you. One day Redwall and all the land will be indebted to you. Matthias, you are a true Warrior.
Matthias, your entire family is dead and your lands have been burned and salted by Northern bannerman and also I’m betraying you and I’m going to cut off your hands and sew them onto your genitals so that your genitals clap when you walk and I’m going to use your skin to make a bagpipe and I’m going to play rude songs about your dead father on that bagpipe and then I’m going to set you and your pregnant wife on fire, Matthias.
***
“Are you going to go down on your knees and beg for your life, old one?”
Abbot Mortimer stared calmly into Cluny’s savage eye. “I will never bend my knee on my own behalf. However, if I thought I could save the life of one of my friends I would gladly fall down on both knees. But I know you, Cluny, better than you know yourself. There is not a scrap of pity or mercy in your heart, only a burning desire for vengeance. Therefore, I will not kneel to one who is consumed by evil.”
Cluny thrust twin daggers into the beloved, aged abbot’s eyes and twisted them for like twenty minutes until no more viscera and bloody spinal tissue and head gunk could be scoured from the dead mouse’s face. Then he violated the pious old hermit’s remains for absolutely hours, and everybody you know watched it and said things like “Did you see what happened to the Abbot last night?” the next day at work. “I had to watch through my fingers! I mean, I knew they were going to do it, I guess I just didn’t realize they were going to really go for it like that. Ahhhhh! You know?”
“It’s so realistic, though,” one of your friends said. “Like, it’s vicious, but it’s real, you know? Not like most fantasy sagas about abbey mice.”
“That’s right,” another one of your friends adds. “I’ve totally heard that it’s not uncommon for Portuguese water rats to eviscerate a mouse’s eyes and then commit unspeakable acts of desecration against the bleeding holes that were once the window to its soul.”
“Oh my God, though, wait until you see what Cluny does to Cornflower’s arthritic mother in the next episode.”
“Don’t say it! I’m not caught up yet!”
“Oh my Goddddd. It’s brutal. Do you want to come over and watch it with me?”
Tags: books, g.r.r. martin, game of thrones, gritty realism, grr martin who hurt you, just straight up messed up stuff, redwall
“just straight up messed up stuff”
Yes, yes that is exactly what this is.
This is absolutely the greatest thing produced by human hands I have ever seen. I love it.
MORE.
I think what got me more than anything was the feast description that segued into vicious pine marten murder threats. It’s. Just. Perfect.
Then he violated the pious old hermit’s remains for absolutely hours, and everybody you know watched it and said things like “Did you see what happened to the Abbot last night?” the next day at work. “I had to watch through my fingers! I mean, I knew they were going to do it, I guess I just didn’t realize they were going to really go for it like that. Ahhhhh! You know?”
Basically, yes.
“…everybody you know watched it and said things like “Did you see what happened to the Abbot last night?” the next day at work.”
These kinds of conversations have been vindicating my decision to quit watching this show this season. It’s PARTLY political (rough sex should not automatically translate into rape, HBO) but mostly I’m just done subjecting myself to the gross-out horror rape show.
Perhaps in its place I’ll just start rereading Redwall and refusing to talk to my coworkers about anything else. SALAMANDASTRON, LOOK OUT HERE WE COME
Badgers FTW
I don’t even want to know what happens to the moles.
MALLORY!!!!!!!!!!!
oh god
<fedora>
I’m reeeeeeaaaal happy I thought “what’s all the fuss about these books,” read them, and decided never to get involved with the teevees variant. BOTH SETS OF BOOKS.
</fedora>
<hipster>
I don’t even own a teevee–can you imagine? How pedestrian.
</hipster>
<nerd>
why would i even own a teevee it’s all on the internet anyway
*fails to find So You Think You Can Dance in any reasonable time period*
</nerd>
I’ve had many friends grill me relentlessly about why I don’t read/watch Game of Thrones. (Disclaimer: Five years ago I did start reading Game of Thrones, because a friend literally thrust the book into my hands right before I boarded a train. Once the train ride ended, I put the book down and never picked it back up again and I don’t think I ever returned it oh my god I am a terrible person I just realized.)
When I say to these well-meaning friends, who seem to genuinely believe I will enjoy this series, “Too much rape, not enough magic,” I get two reactions:
Reaction A – “It’s not that rapey!” DUDE, (it’s always a dude who says this) ALL RAPE IS TOO RAPEY FOR ME. I consume fantasy media to ESCAPE, not have the worst parts of humanity mashed into my face like wedding cake.
Reaction B – A knowing, thoughtful, almost envious nod, as of one who wishes they had the foresight to avoid the series but now they are roped in and it’s too late.
“ALL RAPE IS TOO RAPEY FOR ME.” Yep, this. This is exactly how I feel about it, and why I don’t want to read the books and pretty much gave up on the show after watching the first season/bits of the second and hearing about how the sexual violence gets even more ramped up as the show goes on. It’s just that I pay attention to what happens in the world, not even all that closely a lot of the time, and I can still rattle off a frighteningly lengthy list of incidents of horrific violence, sexual and otherwise, against women worldwide that have happened just in the past month or two. I see it, I feel it in my soul, I fear it and rage against it and mourn for those women and girls, and the last goddamn thing I need is to watch a show created, produced, directed, etc. mainly by men showcasing fictional examples of it. Yes, the show is that rapey – the WORLD is that rapey, dude. And it’s not that I’m too squeamish or delicate to handle that or to face the realities of it – I handle it every day, I face it every day. The issue is that sometimes I’d like a damn break from facing it.
“I consume fantasy media to ESCAPE, not have the worst parts of humanity mashed into my face like wedding cake.”
This, a thousand times this!!!!
I avoided the show for years because of this, but then I went to a Zadie Smith lecture and she told us all we needed to watch Game of Thrones because of the brilliant plot construction.
So now I am sucked very deeply into the series because I can’t disobey Zadie Smith.
Sounds like some sleeper agents got to her. Damn. They’re everywhere. Looks like I’m going to have to stay in my safe house until the show ends. I’ll be in the mountains if anyone needs me.
You’re actually on an island or in the desert, right? Because “the mountains” is a hint as to your location. They’ll find you and project the red wedding onto a cliff face near you one of these days.
take to the seaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Still looking forward to the foodslash friday from these two: https://twitter.com/melbacoast/status/39818373820…
I reread some of my old Redwall books a few years ago. It’s… kind of amazing how little you’d have to adjust the violence to match Game of Thrones standards.
Also, is it just me, or is segregating characters in to stereotypes based on species suuuuuuuuper racist and uncomfortable? (And that’s not even getting into the Always Chaotic Evil “vermin.” Like, shit, dude, even D&D has Drizzt Dourden.)
“Then he violated the pious old hermit’s remains for absolutely hours”
That is somehow the best use of the word “absolutely” ever in the world.
Hiya Toasties, first time, long time. Just created an account to say: my inner 10 year old self is horrified yet delighted.
1) A Redwall-version of “The Rains of Castamere”? Mallory, I love you.
2) It’s honestly gotten to the point where I can only roll my eyes at GoT/ASoIaF more staunch defenders shouting “it’s anti-war!” at the top of their lungs when the books’/show’s main claim to cultural fame is graphic violence. The show admirably makes most of its violence unsettling and unromantic, but part of the appeal of the series (like a lot of horror movies) is honestly just seeing sick shit happen. And that’s fine, but let’s stop pretending it’s saying anything meaningful about man’s capacity for violence.
I think GoT apologists overlap with Vonnegut fans, so you could trot out the Vonnegut quote about anti-war media.
(I only support using Vonnegut quotes on Vonnegut fans.)
Valar morgrodent. All Mice Must Die.
*applauds*
Will it be Mattimeo who gives a bizarre, offensive speech about a little kid smashing beetles?
Mariel can do nothing but laugh at the gates of her aunts castle in the wake of the news. She can do nothing else as she stands next to the white badger who has brought her there. Mariel knows that with her Needle she can take on Gabool the Wild, which is the first name on the list every night when she goes to bed.
Somewhere far away, Reepicheep is raising dragons.
Out in the utter east
Needs more food porn.
You could up a quiz–Redwall or GoT? for the food porn and fool everyone.
GRRM’s Redwall is basically just the shrew war scene in The Mouse and His Child.
The question of whether humans exist in the Redwall universe receives a dramatic answer when Grath Longfletch, exiled queen of the otters, binds three Cumbrian poachers to her will.
This is all well and good while the poachers are restricted to blasting apart vulpine slavers with their shotguns. But when Billwilson, biggest and hungriest of the brood, goes mad and eats* a family of innocent rabbits, does Grathy have it in her to put down her own “child?”
*Billwilson’s “Conies Three B’y Good Ways:”
1. Marinated in honey, cherry vinegar, and bits of fiery Sampetra peppers, then spit-roasted over a tall fire.
2. Wrapped up in wetted paper with shaved parnsips, cinnamon, butter, and a little fennel, then buried in embers till it cooks in its own juice.
3. Ground into sausage with sage, chives, and cheddar.
This is such perfect timing, because today I noticed that I am now the richest person in a Redwall-based online roleplaying game that I still have an account on (www.rovl.org/vi)
Also it’s perfect timing because it’s always time for Redwall
So you’ve amassed a significant cache of virtual acorns or
Gilders!
I haven’t played in like a decade, but my account is still around. Another oldbie left and gifted me his gilders, SO NOW I AM THE RICHEST EVER.
Calantorntain! Nice to see an old ROCer around here.
I am recognized! Who are you?
I now realize that the deep sense of horror and unease I felt after the Red Wedding was likely because I had no idea what cordial was being served. Was it blackberry cordial? Huckleberry? Obviously they had to wash down the hotroot soup with SOMETHING, but what? Talk about shoddy world-building.
Dandelion and burdock, obvs.
This was a pretty good show Mallory but the books were better.
I mean, Martin the Warrior practically was a GoT book, though.
Yup, and the Marlfoxes would’ve fit right in as one of GoT’s great houses.
The Marlfoxes were the most incesty villain clan ever. EVER.
I love those damn Marlfoxes. They were a bright spot in what was otherwise a long stretch of basically indistinguishable Redwall villains.
Even though they appeared in the first retread book after the Golden Age ended!! Still so memorable.
IT REALLY IS.
YESSSSSSSS.
“How many times must I tell you, Tammo, I will NOT allow you to join the Long Patrol” Cornspurry growled, “You’d be about as much use to them as nipples on a breastplate.”
On the plus side, despite some problematic elements on this axis in Martin’s own work, this version of Redwall would wind up much less racist. And exactly as much food porn.
Brian Jacques is an eternal refutation to the notion that writing detailed accounts of feasts will keep you from putting out a book a year in perpetuity.
Not enough of the names are spelled weird for no reasons, like Matthew should be like Matthiu.
Winning the internet as usual Mallory
(Did anyone else pronounce it "Asmodoos" as a kid?" Or badly mangle "Mathias?")
GODDAMMNIT MALLORY
NOW I’M HUNGRY *AND* DISGUSTED
Even though they appeared in the first retread book after the Golden Age ended!! Still so memorable.
Calantorntain! Nice to see an old ROCer around here.
you do have to wonder where all those Hobbits came from, since you can’t imagine Hobbits having sex, can you?
Actually, I can. But not very often, as they’re too busy eating, drinking and napping.
you do have to wonder where all those Hobbits came from, since you can’t imagine Hobbits having sex, can you?
Actually, I can. But not very often, as they're too busy eating, drinking and napping.
This is way better than both Redwall AND GoT.
“Well, sex is an important part of who field mice are. It drives them, it motivates them, it makes them do sometimes very noble things and it makes them do sometimes incredibly stupid things. Leave it out, and you’ve got an incomplete world. Badgers fuck one another. There’s just no two ways about it.”
I’m dead, forever.
Commented because I DIED at the FOOD portion.
(I found a Redwall cookbook in the children’s section of the library, shrieked with joy, and took it home immediately. I have NEVER seen the point of literarily-based cookbooks, *except* in the case of Redwall.)
I badly mangled Mathias all over the place when I was a kid. I put the emphasis on the "i". As in Math-I-as.
Valar Dohareis.