(no subject)

Pursuant to that last post, what I wrote about "Shattered Jade" in early 2004, because it made me facepalm SO BADLY, and also laugh:

I love this book right down to the core of my being because, somehow, it is my story--and I get defensive about that, because I'd really rather not have people believe that I'm a lesbian with a traumatic past on the edge of a nervous breakdown, but it IS my story. It's all here. Wanting so badly to save the world, to save yourself, to save the one person you love more than anything--but it's self-destructive, and you can't manage it, and sometimes you can't do anything but watch things go down in flames. Knowing that you've screwed up the past, and wishing you could go back and fix things that are far beyond repair. Feminism, colonialism, chivalry and its malcontents. And I am SO not up to the challenge, but I'll keep writing this anyway, because I feel like this book knows what the heck it's doing even when I don't. Whew.