Cupid Bow Mouth

I almost hate to keep circling the drain on what this season of IwtV has done, but it's so choice and so intentional and it makes my little writer's heart sing. I love it because I love narrative. Storytelling in all of its nuanced, complex, diverse ways is a thing that fascinates me to no end. An unreliable narrator is arguably one of my favorite things because I already have an almost immediate distrust of the narrative voice. So, when an author does that shit on purpose? 😍

Oh my Fucking Gods! I have a hard on for that shit because who do you trust, what's the truth, how do we understand the story we are being told? I love the act of identifying loosely patched over edges and pulling at loose threads. There's a lie here, someone is playing all up in my face and I want the answers! And a really good writer who implements an unreliable narrator leaves tells all the fuck over the place. After all ....

"You cannot script a hurricane."

( Continue Reading )

The theme continues… unreliable narrators, memory and the owner of the story.

It was very on the nose this time. Molloy, the documenter (ostensibly he tells truths as a journalist but we should never be so trusting as to forget that journalists, too, have an angle), being told stories, the truth of which he is trying to decipher. He grills and he listens, conjectures, and he is force-fed nuggets of the past. The constructed story, the tag-teamed memories that Louis and Armand share are, at their best, rose stained half-truths. At their worse, they are lies. I suppose there is no guarantee that immortality guarantees a clear and exact memory. This is not, after all, The Invisible Life of Addie Larue.

No Pain made the early decision to remind us what we're getting in Season 2 ...

Omikase.

( Did he break you, Louis? Are you broken? )