Col. Sebastian "Basher" Moran (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tigers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
obsidianlogs2020-07-20 06:44 pm
tigers) wrote in obsidianlogs2020-07-20 06:44 pm
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Who: Sebastian Moran, his book review, and you
What: A seething book review for Life of Pi, pinned to a bulletin board. Yes, I am serious.
Where: Common Room
When: Afternoon
[ There are two pieces of paper pinned to the bulletin board, side by side. They weren’t there this morning, and they both feature a neat, elegant scrawl. If you should choose to stand there and read them, you’ll be met with the following:]
It would appear as though someone has so kindly left me a gift. When I woke this morning, what did I see upon my shelf? Not that shiny new pistol I’ve been begging Father Christmas for for the last of two years, but The Life of Pi by Yann Martel. In truth, perhaps they wished to insult me, but as shocking as it may seem, I am a well learned man. Published in my own right as well, but you won’t find Heavy Game of the Western Himayalas in the prison library. However, if you should stumble upon it, be a good chum and let me know.
Yes, I am a learned man and have read the book, and now I believe it only right that I share my thoughts with whoever may glance upon this board.
Now, little friends of the world, I found myself befuddled early on. The family packs up and emigrates to Canada of all places. Pray tell, what has there ever been in Canada for anyone? I will allow you a moment to contemplate that for yourself before I continue.
The answer is “nothing”, my friends. “Nothing”.
Neverthewhatsoever, tragedy strikes as tragedy will with dozens of animals upon a freighter at sea, the ship sinks, the main character escapes, Canada is unreachable, and I find myself befuddled once more. My friends, we have man, zebra, hyena, and orangutan alike all packed within a lifeboat, and beneath a tarpaulin—a tiger. Tigers can be absolutely monstrous creatures. Why, the hellcat who attacked me in Afghanistan was no less than nine feet from tip to tail. And yes, chummies, that would be the elusive Caspian tiger. It would seem you may have me to thank for that more recent extinction status. Still, mustn’t shed too many tears over it, eh? She would have kill me if I hadn’t killed her first.
Now, never you mind the size of the lifeboat the young man escapes in; I am more than capable of a little imagination myself. The problem comes with the animals’ inability to sense the tiger, no matter how well hidden it may be. Animals ain’t like you and I. That hyena would have sniffed out that cat in two seconds. That zebra would have been in the water in one. It is here, I’m afraid, that the entire believability of the novel falls apart for me.
The rest of the novel is given over to watery nonsense featuring the young man “conditioning” the tiger as if it is a dog. A great lot of rot, that is. Now, there is a moment in which the tiger kills and eats a Frenchman. I rather enjoyed this moment.
In the end, however, it does appear as if it was all poorly constructed symbolism to cover up a case of maritime cannibalism. The inability of the rozzers to sniff out the inconsistencies was believable, at least, but all could have been avoided if Canada had never entered into it to begin with. 0.5/5 stars.
—Col. Sebastian Moran
[ Nearby, Moran sits playing solitaire. If you want to critique him to his face, he's here. ]
What: A seething book review for Life of Pi, pinned to a bulletin board. Yes, I am serious.
Where: Common Room
When: Afternoon
[ There are two pieces of paper pinned to the bulletin board, side by side. They weren’t there this morning, and they both feature a neat, elegant scrawl. If you should choose to stand there and read them, you’ll be met with the following:]
It would appear as though someone has so kindly left me a gift. When I woke this morning, what did I see upon my shelf? Not that shiny new pistol I’ve been begging Father Christmas for for the last of two years, but The Life of Pi by Yann Martel. In truth, perhaps they wished to insult me, but as shocking as it may seem, I am a well learned man. Published in my own right as well, but you won’t find Heavy Game of the Western Himayalas in the prison library. However, if you should stumble upon it, be a good chum and let me know.
Yes, I am a learned man and have read the book, and now I believe it only right that I share my thoughts with whoever may glance upon this board.
Now, little friends of the world, I found myself befuddled early on. The family packs up and emigrates to Canada of all places. Pray tell, what has there ever been in Canada for anyone? I will allow you a moment to contemplate that for yourself before I continue.
The answer is “nothing”, my friends. “Nothing”.
Neverthewhatsoever, tragedy strikes as tragedy will with dozens of animals upon a freighter at sea, the ship sinks, the main character escapes, Canada is unreachable, and I find myself befuddled once more. My friends, we have man, zebra, hyena, and orangutan alike all packed within a lifeboat, and beneath a tarpaulin—a tiger. Tigers can be absolutely monstrous creatures. Why, the hellcat who attacked me in Afghanistan was no less than nine feet from tip to tail. And yes, chummies, that would be the elusive Caspian tiger. It would seem you may have me to thank for that more recent extinction status. Still, mustn’t shed too many tears over it, eh? She would have kill me if I hadn’t killed her first.
Now, never you mind the size of the lifeboat the young man escapes in; I am more than capable of a little imagination myself. The problem comes with the animals’ inability to sense the tiger, no matter how well hidden it may be. Animals ain’t like you and I. That hyena would have sniffed out that cat in two seconds. That zebra would have been in the water in one. It is here, I’m afraid, that the entire believability of the novel falls apart for me.
The rest of the novel is given over to watery nonsense featuring the young man “conditioning” the tiger as if it is a dog. A great lot of rot, that is. Now, there is a moment in which the tiger kills and eats a Frenchman. I rather enjoyed this moment.
In the end, however, it does appear as if it was all poorly constructed symbolism to cover up a case of maritime cannibalism. The inability of the rozzers to sniff out the inconsistencies was believable, at least, but all could have been avoided if Canada had never entered into it to begin with. 0.5/5 stars.
—Col. Sebastian Moran
[ Nearby, Moran sits playing solitaire. If you want to critique him to his face, he's here. ]
no subject
Review of "Pat the Bunny" by Dorothy Kunhardt
At first I wasn't particularly impressed with this book. It started with a game of peek-a-boo (a game I outgrew around the age of two) and a "wedding ring" you were instructed to stick your finger through despite the fact that the hole was clearly sized for a child's hand (a huge plot inconsistency - the ring belongs to the mother).
I also felt as if my intelligence was a bit insulted by the insistence that "the bunny is s-o-o-o-o-o-o big!" when, in fact, it was smaller than an average rabbit, an animal that is quite small to begin with.
However, the esteemed Dorothy Kunhardt was able to turn things around in the final two pages, during which (spoilers ahead!) I, a humble boy from small town Nevada, got to pat the bunny. You heard that right, folks. I don't know if it ends that way for everyone. I don't know if you'll get to pat the bunny.
But I did.
5/5 stars.
-Randall Flagg
no subject
But when he reads Moran's review of the Life of Pi, he finds himself smiling, though not laughing just yet. It is a hilarious review, of course, because of how pretentious it is.
He sits across from Moran and simply launches into conversation.]
Is that why you're such a bitter criminal, Sebastian? You are sad that no one read your book?
i'm so sorry this is so late and if u want to ignore it that's okay! i was having a Time with tags
Moran is on his fourth game of solitaire when AM approaches, and he has yet to entice anyone to join him in a game of whist. ]
Quite the contrary, my good man. I am not a bitter criminal at all. I am a criminal who just so happens to be a bitter person. The reasoning behind that, as you can no doubt glean from the researched-based title of my book, has nothing to do with my undoubtedly very niche area of publication.
shhh you are fine
A criminal who happens to be a bitter person? That would be shortened to "bitter criminal" then.
[He's tempted to turn Moran's solitaire game into 52-pickup, but that could get him in trouble. No, he just wants to listen to the buffoonery from this man's mouth instead.]
But really, your bitterness over your publication could not be clearer in your review. Perhaps you should have turned it into a more stimulating novel instead of a dry textbook.
[No, AM has not read Moran's book. He was never much of a game hunter so he had no need.]