I was thinking about the opening. Could the homage be written in a way that immediately immerses the reader in the whale’s sensory (and obviously cognitive) world?
For example (me being a gaijin in Japan—nothing will change that, even if I read zillions of Chinese characters or behave better than any Japanese), I’d say:
“Call me Bikki. The Japanese always call me Bikki, and it sounds like ‘frog,’ but this is who I am—and how I feel.”
This is very different than what you usually write! It reads nicely, reminds me somewhat of Jack London.
There is something I don't understand-how does the whale know what the "surface dwellers" think of the ocean? And if it knows of surface dwellers, how come it is not aware of what a boat is (which I imagine the wood contraption at the end is)? Are surface dwellers humans, or just birds? Do birds think the ocean is quiet?
I don't know how, but since the very beginning the premonition that humans will come to fuck shit up was there. Too picturesque of a painting for them not to. Another beautiful piece. Well, fucking done!
The worst storms don't come from the sky; they come from the surface.
This is already experimental literary fiction, wow!
Thank you, Victoria. 'Experimental literary fiction' sits much nicer on the shelf than just 'whale fanfic.'
It is a fascinating headspace to inhabit. No words, just pressure and echoes.
I am glad the experiment (caused by you, haha) lands. Stepping out of a human brain and into an acoustic one is... louder than I expected.
I might have some advice to offer, but I love it really, and I truly think it’s experimental literary fiction.
I will take your advice no matter the time of day, be it private or public.
I crave it.
I was thinking about the opening. Could the homage be written in a way that immediately immerses the reader in the whale’s sensory (and obviously cognitive) world?
For example (me being a gaijin in Japan—nothing will change that, even if I read zillions of Chinese characters or behave better than any Japanese), I’d say:
“Call me Bikki. The Japanese always call me Bikki, and it sounds like ‘frog,’ but this is who I am—and how I feel.”
Victoria, that is a profound (and slightly heartbreaking) example.
The idea that our identity is defined by the 'mispronunciation' of the world around us is... fertile ground.
If 'Bikki' is the frog who cannot become human, then Moby is the god who is mistaken for a monster.
I will keep the 'frog' in mind as I dive back in. Thank you for the vulnerability.
I hope I made sense.
(Bikki—in a Northern Japanese dialect—means “frog,” silly as that is.)
A great beginning to this little series. Looking forward to the rest.
Thank you!
This is very different than what you usually write! It reads nicely, reminds me somewhat of Jack London.
There is something I don't understand-how does the whale know what the "surface dwellers" think of the ocean? And if it knows of surface dwellers, how come it is not aware of what a boat is (which I imagine the wood contraption at the end is)? Are surface dwellers humans, or just birds? Do birds think the ocean is quiet?
I don't know how, but since the very beginning the premonition that humans will come to fuck shit up was there. Too picturesque of a painting for them not to. Another beautiful piece. Well, fucking done!
Thank you!
This is just Episode 1 of 10. I have plenty of space to mess it all up, haha.