Hiding fandom in the underwear drawer since 1977

So,  Chapter 9 of AW went up today, on the second anniversary of when I started posting TSG.  Yikes.  My notifications through FF.net are completely screwy.  I am not getting them at all or they come 12 to 24 hours later.  This doesn't help my perennial anxiety whenever I post.  So, do let me know, here or via a review if you got it. 

A huge thanks to all of you who made note of letters that you wanted to read and thought should be included.  In looking through this chapter, it really is a sum and substance of so much that has gone before and so much of what is to come. 


( The Research )

( The Highlights and Lowlights )

This could be subtitled, Confessions of a Mary Sue Mom  the contours of which are laid out here during the Great Mother's Day Debate in which the Just King perceptively noted that I wanted to write the Pevensies so that they would be role models to (my) children and my greatest fear (other than my assistant getting into my laptop) was that my children would grow up to be like Edmund and this was why I didn't let him conclude By Royal Decree by having sex with Evil Banker Morgan.

If you've been paying attention, you will have noticed that a thematic element that is pervasive on the Narnian side of the vision (establishment of a human succession), is worming its way into TSG.  We have the flashbacks as the end of TQSiT to Cyrus with Peter and Morgan, Mrs. Pevensie's (she still does not have a first name) ruminations to Tebbitt and the Colonel, Edmund's flashbacks regarding Morgan and Aidan's small relations, Fooh and Beehn with Peter and Dalia, Thomas Clark's relationship with Jack, and now Mrs. Pevensie again, plus the little John Lennon looking for beatles [sic] and Yi and Maureen's son.  And of course, Mrs Pevensie's long discussion with Peter in AW7.

Fact is, sitting as I do as so very, very old, when I see the college age or even high school age F List women saying "But I can't tell my parents!" I jump up and down and say "Yes!  Really!  You can!"  And so, ideas of being shut out, of a mother's estrangement from children and spouse, the burden of raising children as de facto single parents (even if not divorce or death, work and war called fathers away then and still does today) are all weaving their way in here and some of this is perhaps a bit more personal than I normally go.  I am exploring the effect of the War and separation on family life as well as the continuing issue of Mrs. Pevensie's peculiar relationship with her children.  You can expect an appearance of Mrs. Goodwin eventually and I think the revelation that Mrs. Pevensie is not quite a stodgy as her children think. 

So, by the way, should I call Mrs. Pevensie "Helen" as the films name her?

Further edit:  I got whacked about in the last two days with some of the usual critique I've garnered over the years plus a new accusation that, frankly, troubles me a lot.  It doesn't change what I'm doing or my approach to the story nor does it make me conclude that I am a reprobate, that I have ruined Narnia, or that I should just wander off to write Twilight fic with others of my ilk.  But, having just posted on the subject of the relationships among parents, spouses, and children and the issues of race, ethnicity and prejudice, and in the wake of the last two chapters exploring themes of justice, retribution, and compassion, I'm going to be retooling the next chapter a bit.  Peter and Susan are due for a long, long talk.  I'm working some things out and the overdue conversation between Peter and Susan will be the vehicle for some of it.

Happy Birthday to the fabulous and talented ilysia_039 
Oh gosh... I owe birthday fic...  Errrr, hold on...  I've just skimmed the whole of the next two chapters and I think it's really boring and it needs massive cutting, but here's an excerpt:


The house seemed smaller.  Everything seemed smaller and Susan recalled what Aslan had said about how he had seemed bigger because they themselves were.

And she was bigger, far bigger, so large and so complex a person that she no longer felt it all could fit in the confines of Susan Pevensie.  She stared a long time at the freshly laundered school uniform hanging on the bedroom closet door and blinked back tears.  The graying starched blouse and skirt that hit at just the wrong place, the flannel jacket and tie would replace the sensible, but very fashionable and flattering, Washington dresses that Mrs. Caspian favored.  

She was not sure she could do it.  It was like the way Lucy packed – tossing everything into too small a case, sitting on it, and hoping it would all fit, even if the thing was fit to burst.  Susan Pevensie wasn’t  large enough for her many selves.  She had to find a way for them to peacefully coexist.  

Or, perhaps all she needed was a bigger suitcase.  Maybe a steamer trunk.  Or, and she smiled as she became hopelessly ensnared in the metaphor and Aslan gave her the answer – a wardrobe.  

This was not the first time she had learned how a confined space could hold something so very much greater.  Yes, she could fill a space the size of Narnia, or France, perhaps.  

“Susan?” Lucy asked from her bed.

“Just thinking about how much I do not wish to return to school.”

Lucy sniffed.  “It will be horrid.”  She sounded so miserable, Susan stopped staring at the stupid schoolgirl uniform and immediately crossed over to Lucy’s bed.  Sitting, she took her sister in her arms.

“So what is this all about?” Susan asked, dabbing Lucy’s dribbling tears.  “You’ve been keeping something inside a long time.  What had to wait until I returned?”

 

( 5,000 words of pointless dialog and other blather )