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Shizuka thought of how regularly Lan had changed the subject away from her music, away from her. How, when she did respond, it was to compliment her on the beauty of her voice … never what her voice said. Being doubted hurts. But what hurts even worse is not being heard. Over all these Saturdays, Lan had never stopped assuming that music was the trivial diversion of a backward planet. And if Lan felt that way about her music, then how did Lan feel about her?
I wish she showed this instead of just telling us
“No, no. I brought my own,” Katrina said. She did not mention it was carbon fiber. Katrina adjusted the shoulder rest. She played a note, then stopped. “Is everything okay?” Lucy asked. Katrina nodded. She played a few measures more. She held the violin to her ear. Nothing more needed to be said.
This was such a big tie between Ktrina and Shizuka and Lucy -- again no explanation or expansion. And after all of that abput Lucys back story and insecurities, to have it just end hereafter weeks of work
Edwin was about to get up and apologize when Aunty Floresta put his hand on his shoulder.
His hand on his shoulder ?
“Miss Satomi. You don’t think I already know?”
WHAT
If being queer had taught her anything, it was that there was always a price.
How did I find out? I didn’t have to—because I never expected to survive. They would work the details out later. But for now, she would play—no. She would sing.
For a long time afterward, it was silent. “You played magnificently,” Shizuka finally said. Katrina turned to her teacher. “So, when do I die?” Tremon Philippe was right. Give someone with nothing the slightest chance to shine, and she will gratefully trade her soul.
If only he hadn’t said this was not a job for girls. If only her brother and cousins had been interested. If only she had been a son. If only … If only …
OKAY we get it… men are patriarchal, misogynistic, exclusionary bastards and it makes women sad. I feel like this isn't revolutionary, especially to be driving it so hard and exclusively with almost all of the characters.
I was wondering … could I try working on this after school? And, if you’re not busy, can you teach me?” “I’m not your grandfather,” she finally said. “Grandpa yelled a lot. And he hit things.” “Yes, he did.”
*eye roll*
“Stay away from her, gook,” he said.
YIKES
Why was he taking shit from backward shits who had never even left their shitstain planet? Markus reached under the counter. He would show this asshole the wrath of the Empire. “Markus. Stop,” his captain said. Suddenly, Markus could not move. “Markus,” the voice repeated, more flatly this time. “Markus, please help your sister.” “That’s right. Go help your sister,” the asshole said. Helplessly, Markus watched them leave the shop, laughing. He looked out into the sky. He could not even see his home. What had Markus been thinking? Once again, Lan replayed the scene in her mind. There was no
...more
Is this what Katrina was picking up on? That Markus is unstable and possibly dangerous
Endplague
Please please PLEASE what is the Endplague
The Queen of Hell folded her arms. Lan had ignored her, trivialized her music, misread her intentions, even sent Shirley to kidnap Katrina.
She liked Shizuka, but as an object, not as a person. She's so wrapped up in her own b.s. that she's diminishing the people, cultures, and planet around her.
Li’s Sandwiches
Ch 16 pp.162
I like the repetition of places in the area--building the community and area out for us and the relationship between the characters & the setting.
Lan nodded, then took a bite. She tasted onion and cilantro and peppers. There was sliced pork and pickled radish and carrots and liver pâté … The bread was crunchy and crumbly on the outside, yet chewy, warm, and almost sweet.
God this is lime written mukbang… makes me voracious like the Bolognese in Blue is the Warmest Color
And all that time, Lan had been talking, explaining, correcting. But had she really tasted anything?
And so, Lan listened, as best she could, not just to the sound of her voice, but to everything that Shizuka Satomi said. No, she couldn’t understand all of it. In fact, most of her words still did not make sense. But she listened.
Lan is kind of like a scientist--an anthropologist--cataloging and observing but through her own lens of understanding, so she's not truly *seeing*, *listening*, or *understanding*. Its like observing different animal species and declaring them unintelligent because of the standards in which they're being measured against. I'm thinking of the elephant tool study.
Shirley was right. This was not a simple planet.
“And there, in the dark, the sound develops. There, in the empty spaces, a violin’s voice matures, gains complexity, power, depth…” Shizuka pointed at Katrina’s heart. “Everything the audience hears, what we strive to create … what we live to convey … it comes from there. In your hollows. In your nothingness. “There is where your music gains its life.”
“Honey, cuts on your arms can leave scars, and people will see them when you play.” Tamiko stared through her, into space. “She was at Grunfeld’s, and Mr. Grunfeld died.” Ellen nodded nervously. “Yes, it happened suddenly. So sad.” “Romantic…” “Tamiko?” The girl rubbed her arms, and more blood soaked through the sleeves. “Shizuka Satomi has a new student. And she’s already killed for her.”
What is the point of this paragraph? Is she cutting herself to self harm? She mentions praying to anyone and being willing to do anything, so is she maybe doing a blood sacrifice? The characters and interactions are so brief and undeveloped its confusing and frustrating.
“What?” “Tiffany was positive that she’d heard correctly. Shizuka Satomi said her student has no classical training. She’s having issues with double stops. And she plays gaming music.” Ellen’s jaw dropped. “Is this some sort of joke?” “It must have gotten boring in Hell,” Landon surmised.
So like, do people know or is it a rumor thats taken on more life?
once Tamiko found out, she wouldn’t be cutting her forearms—she’d be slitting her wrists.
Good god
“So I can count on your help?” “Of course!” “So, shall we?” “Shall we what?” “Why, Landon Fung, aren’t you part of the Temple City Chamber of Commerce?”
???
‘Classically Camellia Music Showcase—A Sharing Of The Wonderful Young Classical Musicians In Our Neighborhood.’ And, they are inviting the legendary Shizuka Satomi’s newest student to participate in the event.” Shizuka continued reading. It would be held at Temple City Park, in the Performing Arts Pavilion as part of Temple City’s Camellia Festival—
Ahhh what are Ellen & Landon planning? A Carrie moment?
And then, slowly, Katrina told Shizuka how ugly she felt when she was ignored at Grunfeld’s. Bit by bit, she admitted how hurt she was when Lucía Matía had called her a boy. She talked of listening to the sneers of people on the sidewalk, the horrible words spoken both loudly and under breath. She talked of listening, always listening, for the next possible attack, of trying to slouch as she walked in public, or that time after church when her uncle held her down and kissed her while saying please don’t give him AIDS and that God thought she was a filthy whore.
Trauma voyeurism
Katrina lay there, her head in Shizuka’s lap. Some of the girl’s stories seemed unfathomably cruel. Some of them sounded like being a teenager. But they were tangled and knotted, and pulling on them would only make matters worse. Shizuka brushed a strand of hair out of Katrina’s face. “Katrina, why don’t you go upstairs, wash up, and rest. Astrid is starting dinner soon. I’ll ask her to make something special.”
But you CAN do something or say something more than this!
“Landon, help! Grab her before she hurts herself!” Landon had no idea Tamiko had gotten this bad.
Why add this?
Tamiko had heard rumors about Shizuka Satomi’s students. They were destined to die mysteriously, or tragically. Some even whispered that to study with Shizuka Satomi meant trading your soul.
Tomorrow is tomorrow. Over there is over there. And here and now is not a bad place and time to be, especially when so much of the unknown is beautiful.
And besides, there was something that she had been wanting to know more about for some time now. “The Endplague. You mention it from time to time. Can you tell me what it is, exactly?”
You & me both, Shizuka!
“The civilization then rushes to probe other stars, even other galaxies; it increases its research, attempting to manipulate space, time, in the hope that somewhere, someone might have found an escape, a loophole. “But eventually, they find, and solve, the mathematical equation that explains the entire universe.” “I think our scientists are working on something like that too,” Shizuka said. Lan shook her head. “They’ll need to find the Grand Unified Theory a few more times before they can even begin to understand what ‘everything’ is—sorry, I didn’t mean to offend your civilization.” Shizuka
...more
Oh
Lan Tran, Starship Captain, former Imperial Scientist, and Earth’s first harbinger of the Endplague,
So its Lan carrying it?
How to Survive an Interstellar
It feels like she had this written first and wrote the story and characters around it
“No. I mean—I don’t know if I can go there and—” “Katrina.” “Yes, Miss Satomi?” “Stop. I am going to be with you at all times. It will be fine.” “Y-yes, Miss Satomi.” “Good night, Katrina. Dream of everything beautiful.” “Good night.”
Its frustrating because Katrina's feelings are all valid and based on her very real multitude of e periences. But Shizuka doesnt really support her or try to make her feel safe… she doesnt give her any verbal reassurance or talk her through it. She mightask her to explain herself, but then just immediately moves on --like pp.181
Katrina wanted to apologize to all of them for being so plain and leave immediately.
YES, KATRINA IS SELF LOATHING AND SHY. We get it
was important to be supportive, yet not supporting.
What?
This was not good. These dresses were cut for women’s bodies … not like her, but the ones who were beautiful. The real ones, who weren’t born the way she was.
The spectrum of queer characters should encompass more than the dichotomy of battered, abused, & self-loathing to heroic, & self-assured
Someone came in. “No!” “It’s me,” Miss Satomi said. “You’re stuck. Let me help you.”
Again with the barging in
Katrina felt herself twisting back, back to Evan in the shower, the women on the bus ride, her father kicking the door. She was a dumbass. A tranny. Worthless. Ugly.
Katrina laughed. She spun. She felt happy. She felt proud. Then she felt her father kicking in the door. She shuddered. She folded in on herself and rocked back and forth. She didn’t deserve happiness like this, laughter like this. Freak! Abomination! Why are you even alive? Faggot, just die.
Why is she continuously not letting K be hppy
“I was with my grandmother,” Astrid finally said. “She was singing a lullaby.” Ich ghöre äs Glöggli es lütet so nett De Tag isch vergange jetz gang ich is Bett Im Bett tuen i bäte und schlafe dänn ii De Papi im Himmel wird au bi mir si Astrid gathered the teacups. “Miss Satomi, I hope you were somewhere beautiful, too. Good night.”
The world K was building for them
She might not be a son, but she was still a Matía.
Of course we have to mention that again
one of the festival staff—the emcee—had burned to the ground.
Just like Grunds
Tremon looked like he was about to say something, then stopped himself. “Shizuka … It’s a shame that you had to be beautiful,” he finally said. “Tremon?” He bowed, then got up and left.
???
Katrina stared at her screen. In one night, her Axxiom video had over one thousand views. Now, in a week, her total views had gone over ten thousand. She held a pillow to her face and screamed.
I like the juxtaposition with the last time she screamed into a pillow bc of a video
Bitch.
Hes scary
“What the fuck are you doing here? Bringing us more donuts? I said, what the fuck—” Before he could finish, the figure seemed to blur. Thinh felt something like a beanbag whip across his face. “What did you call her?” a voice said calmly. Thinh tried to get up. He couldn’t see out of his left eye. He slipped. Wait? Blood…? “My mother. What did you call her?” The calm was chilling. Thinh’s friends froze. In one blow, half of their friend’s face had been torn off its skull.
WTF
Arlene slapped him. Markus slammed her back, hard, against a car. He looked at the human, and his face twisted as if smelling filth. Dirty, primitive … hateful … Animals. He raised his blaster. There was a flash and a crackle. It hurt so much. Arlene cried. There was burning. It hurt. It hurt … Arlene Herrera’s world faded to white.
And what purpose does this exactly serve?
Helplessly, Lucy looked about the store at the many photos of her grandfather and father. The father and son. Yes, yes, Matía and Sons, Matía and Sons. But why didn’t they pass along their notes? Did they not feel she was worthy? Fair enough. She’d even cast her vote to make it unanimous.
ENOUGH ALREADY
But as Katrina played, there was her father stopping the car in the middle of the road, screaming that she was a cocksucker. Her friends using her old name. Her ex-lover calling her a half-woman freak.
Theres just so much sprinkling of trauma & abuse throughout that feels like its to serve as a reminder that our FMC is broken
