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A Man Must Learn to Love
Once upon a time, there was a great sultan, who was knowing and wise in all matters of rulership. Long was his reign, and by his guidance, his people flourished. The markets thrived, the people were safe, and his armies knew no defeat, until his borders stretched to the furthest horizon.
But the sultan grew old, as men do, and fear touched his heart. And so he traveled into the deepest of his palace’s vaults, where he kept the greatest treasure he possessed: a single silver ring. Solomon himself had once worn it. Where the great King of Israel had found such a treasure, only Allah knew.
It was tight on the King’s finger, and when he touched it, a creature appeared before him. A man, whose eyes were fire and whose skin was the space between the stars.
“Three times,” the jinn said, “I shall be called to your service. Three times you shall ask of me a boon. And three times I shall say, ‘only Allah is eternal,’ for nothing in heaven or earth may last forever. Each warning you shall ignore, until it is too late.”
“My kingdom needs me,” the Sultan said, “for my sons are fools and tyrants. I wish that my rule should never end.”
“No man lives forever, oh sultan: only Allah is eternal.” The spirit’s voice was grave, it’s eyes sad. “But I promise you this: so long as your kingdom persists, you shall be its ruler, and death shall stay his hand.”
The spirit vanished, and the sultan returned to his palace, a strength in his steps he had not known since he was a boy. Time touched him no longer, and his rule stretched for decades more, and his kingdom became the jewel of the earth.
But jewels inspire greed in the heart’s of men, and with his kingdom’s every glory, the resentment of his neighbors grew. No army could defeat him in battle, but soon he found himself facing two armies, then three, then ten. With every victory in the field came news of the sack of two undefended cities, and the kingdom began to fracture.
Sitting in his tend in the field, the king again touched the ring that Solomon wore, and again the jinn appeared before him. “I wish that my kingdom last forever,” he said.
“No kingdom lasts forever, oh sultan: only Allah is eternal,” the jinn said. “But I promise you this: so long as your people live, your kingdom shall never fall.”
It was on that day that the black death came to the sultan’s enemies. In time, the all were vanquished, and his kingdom conquered all its foes.
But with his conquests came slaves, and with those slaves came language, tradition, science and art. And as the decades passed, the city the sultan looked out on grew strange. The sultan’s people no longer saw his rule as wise, and one morning he knew himself a foreigner to them, and felt the weight of age return. And so he touched the ring that Solomon wore.
“I wish,” he said as the spirit appeared, “that my people, my culture, should last forever.”
“No nation endures forever, oh sultan: only Allah is eternal,” the jinn said, “But I promise you this: so long as men watch the sun rise in the east and set in the west, your people will never fade.”
And in time it passed that a man stood in the middle of the street, the last sultan of the last sultanate in a world full of “Islamic Republics” and foreign invaders. Cars that drove themselves quietly moved around him. Down the long boulevard framed by skyscrapers, he could see the sun set, and he looked to his people. But their eyes were turned to phones, absorbed by screens, blinded by glasses that projected a computerized reality.
He looked to the sky, and took a breath, and touched the ring once again. “What should I have done?” he asked the spirit, tears in his eyes.
“You should have learned to love that which will be, instead of that which is,” the spirit said.
“And what,” the sultan asked, “will be?”
“None can say. Our perspective is each flawed, each limited. We each only have our little time on this earth, oh sultan. Only Allah is eternal.”
The sultan nodded, and shut his eyes, seeking for the first time to truly understand.
It was there in the street that he died.
But the sultan grew old, as men do, and fear touched his heart. And so he traveled into the deepest of his palace’s vaults, where he kept the greatest treasure he possessed: a single silver ring. Solomon himself had once worn it. Where the great King of Israel had found such a treasure, only Allah knew.
It was tight on the King’s finger, and when he touched it, a creature appeared before him. A man, whose eyes were fire and whose skin was the space between the stars.
“Three times,” the jinn said, “I shall be called to your service. Three times you shall ask of me a boon. And three times I shall say, ‘only Allah is eternal,’ for nothing in heaven or earth may last forever. Each warning you shall ignore, until it is too late.”
“My kingdom needs me,” the Sultan said, “for my sons are fools and tyrants. I wish that my rule should never end.”
“No man lives forever, oh sultan: only Allah is eternal.” The spirit’s voice was grave, it’s eyes sad. “But I promise you this: so long as your kingdom persists, you shall be its ruler, and death shall stay his hand.”
The spirit vanished, and the sultan returned to his palace, a strength in his steps he had not known since he was a boy. Time touched him no longer, and his rule stretched for decades more, and his kingdom became the jewel of the earth.
But jewels inspire greed in the heart’s of men, and with his kingdom’s every glory, the resentment of his neighbors grew. No army could defeat him in battle, but soon he found himself facing two armies, then three, then ten. With every victory in the field came news of the sack of two undefended cities, and the kingdom began to fracture.
Sitting in his tend in the field, the king again touched the ring that Solomon wore, and again the jinn appeared before him. “I wish that my kingdom last forever,” he said.
“No kingdom lasts forever, oh sultan: only Allah is eternal,” the jinn said. “But I promise you this: so long as your people live, your kingdom shall never fall.”
It was on that day that the black death came to the sultan’s enemies. In time, the all were vanquished, and his kingdom conquered all its foes.
But with his conquests came slaves, and with those slaves came language, tradition, science and art. And as the decades passed, the city the sultan looked out on grew strange. The sultan’s people no longer saw his rule as wise, and one morning he knew himself a foreigner to them, and felt the weight of age return. And so he touched the ring that Solomon wore.
“I wish,” he said as the spirit appeared, “that my people, my culture, should last forever.”
“No nation endures forever, oh sultan: only Allah is eternal,” the jinn said, “But I promise you this: so long as men watch the sun rise in the east and set in the west, your people will never fade.”
And in time it passed that a man stood in the middle of the street, the last sultan of the last sultanate in a world full of “Islamic Republics” and foreign invaders. Cars that drove themselves quietly moved around him. Down the long boulevard framed by skyscrapers, he could see the sun set, and he looked to his people. But their eyes were turned to phones, absorbed by screens, blinded by glasses that projected a computerized reality.
He looked to the sky, and took a breath, and touched the ring once again. “What should I have done?” he asked the spirit, tears in his eyes.
“You should have learned to love that which will be, instead of that which is,” the spirit said.
“And what,” the sultan asked, “will be?”
“None can say. Our perspective is each flawed, each limited. We each only have our little time on this earth, oh sultan. Only Allah is eternal.”
The sultan nodded, and shut his eyes, seeking for the first time to truly understand.
It was there in the street that he died.
But their eyes were turned to phones, absorbed by screens, blinded by glasses that projected a computerized reality.
Because technology is baaaaaaad. >.<
Alright, I'll level with you here. This story started off really strong in my estimation, and then totally fell apart on that last scene. Why? Because you've made religious-y things core to this story, but the philosophy on display at the end seemed a little... lacking in comparison. Kinda faux-philosophical at best, and not really in-line with the imagery you're using elsewhere. It's possible I'm missing something important here, but as I've currently read it, I just can't get behind it.
Including Solomon was great. But if you're going to use a name with as much narrative weight as 'Allah', I'd like that to play into the story somehow. Preferably in some way that addresses the narratives around the name! I think you'd be better off going with 'generic fantasy' as a setting than drawing from more specific ideas without addressing them.
>>Not_A_Hat
I absolutely agree with you. Really strong start, but I was disappointed in the conclusion.
I absolutely agree with you. Really strong start, but I was disappointed in the conclusion.
Another fairy-tale, nice. Now that I think about it, the minific format seems ideal for this kind of story, so I shouldn't really be surprised.
This one pulled off quite nicely the style and the themes of their inspiration material. It was nicely written and almost perfect in length. Kudos.
>>Not_A_Hat
I didn't really see the ending as "Technology is bad", but then I have a history of missing that kind of innuendos. It happened that I nodded smiling along somebody ranting about the evils of the modern world for a couple of minutes before I caught on that he was complaining about it and not simply stating awesome stuff.
What we have here is not that progress is bad, but that everything changes and there isn't anything you can do to keep things the same forever. The fact that people were not looking anymore at the sun rising was simply a thing the Sultan could never have imagined when the Djinn granted the boon, but that happened anyway because, as the Djinn warned, nothing is eternal. You have to learn to love what comes.
The religious references are, in my opinion, a must to emulate the style of this kind of fairy-tale, and they added a lot to give flavor and color to the story itself.
This one pulled off quite nicely the style and the themes of their inspiration material. It was nicely written and almost perfect in length. Kudos.
>>Not_A_Hat
I didn't really see the ending as "Technology is bad", but then I have a history of missing that kind of innuendos. It happened that I nodded smiling along somebody ranting about the evils of the modern world for a couple of minutes before I caught on that he was complaining about it and not simply stating awesome stuff.
What we have here is not that progress is bad, but that everything changes and there isn't anything you can do to keep things the same forever. The fact that people were not looking anymore at the sun rising was simply a thing the Sultan could never have imagined when the Djinn granted the boon, but that happened anyway because, as the Djinn warned, nothing is eternal. You have to learn to love what comes.
The religious references are, in my opinion, a must to emulate the style of this kind of fairy-tale, and they added a lot to give flavor and color to the story itself.
>>Orbiting_kettle I'm not claiming the ending is saying technology is bad, actually. The tone of that line in particular annoys me because it feels like a cheap jab, but it's just one line; I won't put too much weight on it. The word-limits do make it difficult to enumerate nuanced views, and it's not really core to the ending.
I'll try and clarify what really does bug me, but let me preface it by saying I don't really know a whole lot about Islam in particular. I am not Islamic. I'm mostly basing this on my impressions. However, this line in particular really threw me off:
To me, it seems like when the sultan asks 'how can I love what's coming?' the djinn replies 'You can't, so give up and die, because that's all anyone can do'.
So he does.
And I don't like that. Not only does it seem like bad philosophy, (I doubt even nihilists urge people to commit suicide,) it seems like awful religion. I really doubt a Muslim Sultan would buy that so easily, or that a supposedly Muslim Djinn would preach that. It's just incredibly jarring to me, clashing with general ideas I hold about both philosophy and religion, and whatever (admittedly meager) impressions I have about Islam. It'd be something like writing a fic about Carl Sagan and having him supposedly resolve the conflict with a prayer and "praise Allah" out of the blue. This is supposed to be a crux sentence, and it feels like it betrays everyone in the vicinity. Characterization matters, and I just can't make this fit at all.
So, I agree with you; the religious stuff is used to give this a great fairy-tale tone. However, the ending - and that line in particular - clashes so hard for me it shatters entirely. That's why I suggested a more generic fantasy; I could accept a nihilist genie giving that line to a postmodern king and having him accept it (which suddenly sounds like an interesting story) but I don't feel like that's what we were presented with.
Anyways, I may be reading it completely wrong and perhaps I'not in the intended audience... or maybe I'm entirely wrong in my impressions of Islam and they'd be totally behind that message. I hope this clarifies my views, and is useful or at least interesting to the author.
I'll try and clarify what really does bug me, but let me preface it by saying I don't really know a whole lot about Islam in particular. I am not Islamic. I'm mostly basing this on my impressions. However, this line in particular really threw me off:
“None can say. Our perspective is each flawed, each limited. We each only have our little time on this earth, oh sultan. Only Allah is eternal.”
To me, it seems like when the sultan asks 'how can I love what's coming?' the djinn replies 'You can't, so give up and die, because that's all anyone can do'.
So he does.
And I don't like that. Not only does it seem like bad philosophy, (I doubt even nihilists urge people to commit suicide,) it seems like awful religion. I really doubt a Muslim Sultan would buy that so easily, or that a supposedly Muslim Djinn would preach that. It's just incredibly jarring to me, clashing with general ideas I hold about both philosophy and religion, and whatever (admittedly meager) impressions I have about Islam. It'd be something like writing a fic about Carl Sagan and having him supposedly resolve the conflict with a prayer and "praise Allah" out of the blue. This is supposed to be a crux sentence, and it feels like it betrays everyone in the vicinity. Characterization matters, and I just can't make this fit at all.
So, I agree with you; the religious stuff is used to give this a great fairy-tale tone. However, the ending - and that line in particular - clashes so hard for me it shatters entirely. That's why I suggested a more generic fantasy; I could accept a nihilist genie giving that line to a postmodern king and having him accept it (which suddenly sounds like an interesting story) but I don't feel like that's what we were presented with.
Anyways, I may be reading it completely wrong and perhaps I'not in the intended audience... or maybe I'm entirely wrong in my impressions of Islam and they'd be totally behind that message. I hope this clarifies my views, and is useful or at least interesting to the author.
>>Not_A_Hat
Huh, I read that mostly as "We can't predict the future, nor can we live in the past. We have to live in the moment and appreciate what comes to us."
This is kind of an universal lesson that you can find almost everywhere. Lorenzo De Medici composed mid XV Century
" Quant'è bella giovinezza,
Che si fugge tuttavia!
Chi vuol esser lieto, sia:
di doman non v'è certezza"
Which translates as
"How beautiful is youth
even if it still flees.
Those who want should be happy:
there's no certainty for tomorrow."
This has mostly nothing to do with religion, if not for the formula that says that only Allah is eternal and immutable. It is also a classic way in which Djinn's talk in some Arabic fairytales.
There's also a fatalistic interpretation there, but only, as far as I can tell, as fatalistic as the laws of thermodynamic.
Huh, I read that mostly as "We can't predict the future, nor can we live in the past. We have to live in the moment and appreciate what comes to us."
This is kind of an universal lesson that you can find almost everywhere. Lorenzo De Medici composed mid XV Century
" Quant'è bella giovinezza,
Che si fugge tuttavia!
Chi vuol esser lieto, sia:
di doman non v'è certezza"
Which translates as
"How beautiful is youth
even if it still flees.
Those who want should be happy:
there's no certainty for tomorrow."
This has mostly nothing to do with religion, if not for the formula that says that only Allah is eternal and immutable. It is also a classic way in which Djinn's talk in some Arabic fairytales.
There's also a fatalistic interpretation there, but only, as far as I can tell, as fatalistic as the laws of thermodynamic.
>>Orbiting_kettle I dunno... I can't reconcile
with any interpretation of 'live in the moment'. In fact, it reads to me as kinda exactly the opposite, what with the whole 'instead of what is' bit?
Besides which, whatever he decides apparently kills him. How many people are going to accept 'just be happy with what you have' if it means literally dying?
You should have learned to love that which will be, instead of that which is
with any interpretation of 'live in the moment'. In fact, it reads to me as kinda exactly the opposite, what with the whole 'instead of what is' bit?
Besides which, whatever he decides apparently kills him. How many people are going to accept 'just be happy with what you have' if it means literally dying?
>>Not_A_Hat
Well, he didn't die because he decided to die. He died because the condition of the third boon came through. He would live until his people watched the sun rise and set, which didn't happen anymore. So he died exactly as predicted. And he died in the moment in which he realized that he should have loved what will be, that is what life brings us instead of what is, that is the things that are passing. The Djinn told him before he granted the first boon that he would realize this too late.
Well, he didn't die because he decided to die. He died because the condition of the third boon came through. He would live until his people watched the sun rise and set, which didn't happen anymore. So he died exactly as predicted. And he died in the moment in which he realized that he should have loved what will be, that is what life brings us instead of what is, that is the things that are passing. The Djinn told him before he granted the first boon that he would realize this too late.
>>Orbiting_kettle If that's the case, some signal that he's not dying because of his decision might be good. As it is, it's a bit too close to that important change of heart and also not connected to any other signal. Maybe if it just say 'the sun came up and no-one looked' I'd have gotten more of a sense of that.
However, even if I can accept that interpretation to some extent, I still don't find it very satisfying. For the first and third dilemma, it perhaps works. Personal life and culture? Alright, culture is fleeting, and although there's no reason to not extend your life if you can, I don't think there's any reason to particularly fear death.
The middle one, however? His people are being killed. If the author wants to convince me that the correct response to my friends/family/countrymen being killed is just shrug and say 'change happens', they're going to have to be more convincing than this.
However, even if I can accept that interpretation to some extent, I still don't find it very satisfying. For the first and third dilemma, it perhaps works. Personal life and culture? Alright, culture is fleeting, and although there's no reason to not extend your life if you can, I don't think there's any reason to particularly fear death.
The middle one, however? His people are being killed. If the author wants to convince me that the correct response to my friends/family/countrymen being killed is just shrug and say 'change happens', they're going to have to be more convincing than this.
I liked how this story progressed, showing the results of each boon in unexpected ways. and it did a pretty good job of emulating the fairytale atmosphere.
>>Not_A_Hat
references to Allah and Heaven are common in the Arabian Nights tales, at least the ones I'm familiar with. they're not intended to make them religious fables, but more like to illustrate the culture the characters live in. they're primarily folktales, and some religious types still disapprove of the "magical" elements.
(putting it another way, it's like having a cross in a vampire story)
anyway, I don't have a problem with the logic or the moral in this story, but it still didn't affect me much in the end. I was interested in the story, but I didn't feel sympathetic on whether the sultan lived or died, I suppose. no moment of regret, or trying to break the chains of fate.... no tragedy. it just feels like a cold impersonal lecture for the moral, which I suspect is too grand and ambitious for a minific's reach.
I don't think it's bad or flawed at all, because it's very well-grounded. but perhaps, missing the magic that makes fairytales fly.
now that I think about it, doesn't the Sultan dying also signify the end for his kingdom + people? are all these modern people with their VR glasses and phones about to die in an apocalypse?
>>Not_A_Hat
But if you're going to use a name with as much narrative weight as 'Allah', I'd like that to play into the story somehow.
references to Allah and Heaven are common in the Arabian Nights tales, at least the ones I'm familiar with. they're not intended to make them religious fables, but more like to illustrate the culture the characters live in. they're primarily folktales, and some religious types still disapprove of the "magical" elements.
(putting it another way, it's like having a cross in a vampire story)
anyway, I don't have a problem with the logic or the moral in this story, but it still didn't affect me much in the end. I was interested in the story, but I didn't feel sympathetic on whether the sultan lived or died, I suppose. no moment of regret, or trying to break the chains of fate.... no tragedy. it just feels like a cold impersonal lecture for the moral, which I suspect is too grand and ambitious for a minific's reach.
I don't think it's bad or flawed at all, because it's very well-grounded. but perhaps, missing the magic that makes fairytales fly.
now that I think about it, doesn't the Sultan dying also signify the end for his kingdom + people? are all these modern people with their VR glasses and phones about to die in an apocalypse?
It's a nice parable, and it draws heavily on the Arabian Nights as its background of course.
However, I experience a sort of dissonance or clash reading it.
Until the last scene with the Islamic republics and modern stuff, this sounds fey, unearthly. We feel we are in a fairy tale, and we don't care much for inconsistencies (e.g. How and why the commoners – or even the sultan’s sons – do not react seeing how long the sultan's lifespan is?). But by suddenly throwing us into the harsh reality at the end of the piece, you sweep away all that atmosphere, and here I felt lost, because the blatant contrast between the two set-ups left me dazed.
This is obviously a tale, yet you wanted to add some reality aspects to it, and the two do not conflate well together. It's a fairy tale no more, and yet it can't be a real story. So, what is it?
However, I experience a sort of dissonance or clash reading it.
Until the last scene with the Islamic republics and modern stuff, this sounds fey, unearthly. We feel we are in a fairy tale, and we don't care much for inconsistencies (e.g. How and why the commoners – or even the sultan’s sons – do not react seeing how long the sultan's lifespan is?). But by suddenly throwing us into the harsh reality at the end of the piece, you sweep away all that atmosphere, and here I felt lost, because the blatant contrast between the two set-ups left me dazed.
This is obviously a tale, yet you wanted to add some reality aspects to it, and the two do not conflate well together. It's a fairy tale no more, and yet it can't be a real story. So, what is it?
>>Haze
It's not that I thought the religious elements couldn't be in there, it's that I didn't like how they were used. For example, your cross in the vampire story; without any prior rationalization, having a cross in a vampire story means it should do things like repel vampires, right? That use addresses the narratives surrounding it. If you use it contrary to that, you need to spend time re-contextualizing it, precisely because of those narratives.
Well, it seems my reaction is in the minority though, which is probably a good thing. Perhaps I simply need to count myself out of the intended audience.
It's not that I thought the religious elements couldn't be in there, it's that I didn't like how they were used. For example, your cross in the vampire story; without any prior rationalization, having a cross in a vampire story means it should do things like repel vampires, right? That use addresses the narratives surrounding it. If you use it contrary to that, you need to spend time re-contextualizing it, precisely because of those narratives.
Well, it seems my reaction is in the minority though, which is probably a good thing. Perhaps I simply need to count myself out of the intended audience.
>>Not_A_Hat
I'm not entirely sure if I get this. can you help me with an example?
I really don't mean for this to be an endless argument on this one thing, and I'm not trying to force you to change your mind. I genuinely want to understand what you mean, because I suspect this might be a case of insider vs outsider perspective. something that seems normal to us is coming across as very out of place to you, but this could be a blind spot out of familiarity.
(and who knows, this might be useful feedback for the author too)
I'm not entirely sure if I get this. can you help me with an example?
I really don't mean for this to be an endless argument on this one thing, and I'm not trying to force you to change your mind. I genuinely want to understand what you mean, because I suspect this might be a case of insider vs outsider perspective. something that seems normal to us is coming across as very out of place to you, but this could be a blind spot out of familiarity.
(and who knows, this might be useful feedback for the author too)
>>Haze
When it comes right down to it, I guess what I'm saying is that this djinn strikes me as out-of-character, because the way I read its dialogue clashes with my preconceived notions about Allah. (Which, again, I don't claim to be an expert on.) That broke the setting for me. As you said, maybe as an outsider to these sorts of stories I simply don't grok it. But...
Consider the djinn's characterization. He says 'I'll tell you this three times, you'll learn it too late, only Allah is eternal.' He's claiming to be wise, he's positioned as teacher, and 'Allah is eternal' seems pretty respectful. So unless something in the larger setting subverts this, my reading of the djinn's character is 'a wise teacher who respects Allah'.
Now, skip to the end. The story is told, the lesson is learned.
The lesson I originally got from this story was something like: "Just give up and die, because that's all anyone can do." I based this on what the djinni and sultan said in that last exchange; see my first exchange with Kettle (>>Not_A_Hat) for a little of my reasoning there.
Can you see why I might have a problem with that? It doesn't strike me as lining up with anything a wise teacher who respects Allah might say, and although my impressions of that might be wrong, I... don't really think they are. Is that something that djinni might teach in the Arabian Nights? I mean, really?
Now, Kettle suggested a somewhat kinder interpretation:
"We can't predict the future, nor can we live in the past. We have to live in the moment and appreciate what comes to us."
If I'd read this in initially, I might have reacted to the story somewhat less strongly. Even so, this sort of platitude - while nice - is something I reject as ultimately unsatisfying philosophically, at least without a more nuanced meaning. Again, see my response to Kettle. (>>Not_A_Hat)
Either way, neither of the lessons I've extracted here fit my image of how the djinn is characterized, mostly because he's 'wise' and respects 'Allah'. If he was set up as a wise teacher who respected Nietzsche, I'd have been less bothered; (probably either reading could fit that.) If he'd been set up as a foolish teacher who respected Allah I'd have been less bothered (although that has its own problems.) If he'd given a more satisfying answer I'd have ranked this story rather higher.
When it comes right down to it, I guess what I'm saying is that this djinn strikes me as out-of-character, because the way I read its dialogue clashes with my preconceived notions about Allah. (Which, again, I don't claim to be an expert on.) That broke the setting for me. As you said, maybe as an outsider to these sorts of stories I simply don't grok it. But...
Consider the djinn's characterization. He says 'I'll tell you this three times, you'll learn it too late, only Allah is eternal.' He's claiming to be wise, he's positioned as teacher, and 'Allah is eternal' seems pretty respectful. So unless something in the larger setting subverts this, my reading of the djinn's character is 'a wise teacher who respects Allah'.
Now, skip to the end. The story is told, the lesson is learned.
The lesson I originally got from this story was something like: "Just give up and die, because that's all anyone can do." I based this on what the djinni and sultan said in that last exchange; see my first exchange with Kettle (>>Not_A_Hat) for a little of my reasoning there.
Can you see why I might have a problem with that? It doesn't strike me as lining up with anything a wise teacher who respects Allah might say, and although my impressions of that might be wrong, I... don't really think they are. Is that something that djinni might teach in the Arabian Nights? I mean, really?
Now, Kettle suggested a somewhat kinder interpretation:
"We can't predict the future, nor can we live in the past. We have to live in the moment and appreciate what comes to us."
If I'd read this in initially, I might have reacted to the story somewhat less strongly. Even so, this sort of platitude - while nice - is something I reject as ultimately unsatisfying philosophically, at least without a more nuanced meaning. Again, see my response to Kettle. (>>Not_A_Hat)
Either way, neither of the lessons I've extracted here fit my image of how the djinn is characterized, mostly because he's 'wise' and respects 'Allah'. If he was set up as a wise teacher who respected Nietzsche, I'd have been less bothered; (probably either reading could fit that.) If he'd been set up as a foolish teacher who respected Allah I'd have been less bothered (although that has its own problems.) If he'd given a more satisfying answer I'd have ranked this story rather higher.
Enjoyed - A Man Must Learn To Love — A+ — A parable or tale done in the best tradition of Arabic storytelling. Top tier.
The Great
Cute, very classic parable style story.
The Rough
Honestly, I think this is the only story in my slate where I really feel I want to say that it was too long. Basically you have a very clear set-up and an inevitable conclusion, so drawing out the answer feels awkward. Like, I think this would be quite nice if it were aggressively tightened up to an Aesop length.
Cute, very classic parable style story.
The Rough
Honestly, I think this is the only story in my slate where I really feel I want to say that it was too long. Basically you have a very clear set-up and an inevitable conclusion, so drawing out the answer feels awkward. Like, I think this would be quite nice if it were aggressively tightened up to an Aesop length.
It’s always nice to see a traditional fairy-tale once in a while, and this story did a grand job of capturing that fairy tale feel. I also enjoyed how the djinn was portrayed; not really being for the sultan, but not explicitly trying to screw him over. Knowing how djinn usually are in folklore, the sultan probably got off easy with this passive-aggressive one.
However, I feel like the story loses its luster by the ending parts. The moral is perfectly fine, but the sudden inclusion of modern-day Islamic countries kind of shook me. The story worked when it was just a vague Middle Eastern kingdom, but suddenly harking on about modern-day Islamic decadence, technology, and what-not felt like it was trying too hard to be commentary about the present day. I’m not saying there can’t be commentary in fairy tales, but the execution here was way too anvilicious and kind of took away from the magical feel the rest of the story had.
A decent fairy tale that only stumbles when it stops focusing on the past and tries to comment on the present.
However, I feel like the story loses its luster by the ending parts. The moral is perfectly fine, but the sudden inclusion of modern-day Islamic countries kind of shook me. The story worked when it was just a vague Middle Eastern kingdom, but suddenly harking on about modern-day Islamic decadence, technology, and what-not felt like it was trying too hard to be commentary about the present day. I’m not saying there can’t be commentary in fairy tales, but the execution here was way too anvilicious and kind of took away from the magical feel the rest of the story had.
A decent fairy tale that only stumbles when it stops focusing on the past and tries to comment on the present.
>>Not_A_Hat
>>Oblomov
>>Orbiting_kettle
>>Monokeras
>>Not_A_Hat
>>georg
>>AndrewRogue
>>libertydude
So, I knew that this story was going to struggle a bit when I wrote it. The first draft was much longer, and I worried that the editing process really muddled the moral and what I was going for. And it seems those worries were justified! But I was still fairly disappointed by the reception it received. Regardless of if you agree with the moral or not, the simple fact that this story's moral was apparently that unclear (from how all over the board the comments were) means that I didn't convey it as well as I'd hoped.
I did giggle at the idea that the moral was "Technology is bad!" or any such thing, given how much of my writing is a love song to technology. CIG nailed it on the head in the podcast, with the intended moral of: "A man must learn to love change." But sadly, he also nailed it on the head that the truncated version doesn't fully support this moral, and the ending feels a bit abrupt.
Oh well. Back to the drawing board! Thanks to everyone for their much helpful and supportive feedback. :)
>>Oblomov
>>Orbiting_kettle
>>Monokeras
>>Not_A_Hat
>>georg
>>AndrewRogue
>>libertydude
Retrospective: A Man Must Learn to Love
So, I knew that this story was going to struggle a bit when I wrote it. The first draft was much longer, and I worried that the editing process really muddled the moral and what I was going for. And it seems those worries were justified! But I was still fairly disappointed by the reception it received. Regardless of if you agree with the moral or not, the simple fact that this story's moral was apparently that unclear (from how all over the board the comments were) means that I didn't convey it as well as I'd hoped.
I did giggle at the idea that the moral was "Technology is bad!" or any such thing, given how much of my writing is a love song to technology. CIG nailed it on the head in the podcast, with the intended moral of: "A man must learn to love change." But sadly, he also nailed it on the head that the truncated version doesn't fully support this moral, and the ending feels a bit abrupt.
Oh well. Back to the drawing board! Thanks to everyone for their much helpful and supportive feedback. :)