Happy Halloween!
You may have thought, given how the last chapter ends with the fight between Atticus and two evil German witches interrupted by the arrival of Atticus’s werewolf lawyer Hal, that this would lead to an awesome battle sequence where a werewolf enters the fray. Well, I am sorry to inform you that Hearne wrote no such sequence, and that this is when the witches leave.
Make It Easy!: 24
The chapter opens thusly:
Dropping a werewolf into a witch fight is like dropping a tank into a snake pit. The snakes might have fangs, but the tank isn’t going to feel their bites.
Why?
[Also! Side note! Over two hundred people highlighted these sentences on Kindle.]
It seems as if the werewolf is the tank of the supernatural world in Hearne’s universe, and I don’t know why. Wolves are certainly powerful creatures, especially in groups, but in Iron Druid it’s as if you can’t beat werewolves without silver or something like actual god powers. This doesn’t make sense (to me, at least)–if you have offensive magic to blast people with, you would think that you could handle a large canine? I suppose that it’s explained that these witches don’t have that much in the way of varied spells, but the sentence here and a following passage imply that ALL witches’ spells are useless against werewolves.
I really hate always saying, “Hey guys, Dresden Files does this better,” but… look, Dresden Files does this so much better! There’s a friendly group of werewolves, the Alphas, and we’re told that when they turn into wolves, they’re very deadly, even against supernatural threats. But that’s because wolves are inherently dangerous creatures, moreso when empowered by human intelligence.
Here? Werewolves are apparently just immune to most magic, unless you have silver or a lightning bolt or something. They’re immune to the Bacchants’ magic, they’re immune to the witches’ hexes, and I don’t know why! Why would they be immune to offensive magic? This is especially annoying because the book went out of its way to explain why cold iron is effective against faeries (even if that explanation was dumb). Werewolves, though? They’re just immune to everything!
In case you needed this fight to be even more uninteresting, Hal doesn’t try to fight the witches. He “made no move to pursue them” as they ran away, only watching and “flashing his canines”. Atticus plans to chase, but remembers he’s not wearing anything, so he stays inside. Instead of turning into an animal, which is a thing he can do.
“Bloody curses,” I ground out softly. Then my voice rose in anger. “Curses in seventy dead languages, Hal! Why didn’t you stop them?”
“Curses in seventy dead languages”? Yeah, that sounds a sentence that someone would actually say in genuine frustration, doesn’t it?
I don’t know what to say. Give it a
Better Than You: 13
I guess?
Hal explains that the reason he didn’t interfere was because the pack leader, Gunnar, ordered that he not get involved in Atticus’s fights. Which makes sense, and it could be milked for drama: the werewolves being unable to help Atticus, and so he has to figure things out without his allies. But this reads more like Hearne wanted to bail Atticus out of the situation and only kind of thought about how he should connect the characters to it somehow.
Hal asks why Atticus is naked in an old lady’s house anyway, and he’s been trying to call his cell phone. While Atticus starts to explain, the Leprechaun comes out of the house and
“Well, that was quite an exciting bit o’fun, wasn’t it, me boy?” She gave me a smart slap on my rear and cackled.
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 31
Hehe, isn’t sexual harassment hilarious?
Hal is appropriately disturbed, and Atticus finally explains what happened. Then Hal gets to explaining what he was trying to reach Atticus for. See, there were police at his shop, because one of his employees is dead: Perry.
No, not Perry?! Perry the Goth?!? We liked him! He was dumb as a box of rocks, but he wasn’t a bad guy! And the fact that Hearne thought ‘Goth’, as in the subculture, needed to be capitalized, means we in the Impish community imagined him as a member of one of the medieval Germanic peoples who sacked Rome.
Atticus seems kind of stunned; don’t worry, he’ll get a full reaction later. He works out that while one witch was hunting him in the neighborhood, the other attacked Perry at the shop in a “Simultaneous strike” before meeting up to chase him in the neighborhood.
Manannan Mac Lir take me for a fool.
DUH DOY!
So let’s get this straight: the ancient Druid, who is supposedly prepared for anything, never considered that a coven of enemy witches might split its forces to scout out and/or attack both his home and his place of work at the same time.
You Keep Using That Word: 29
Hal says he could track the witches by scent (though he can’t attack them because his Alpha’s rules or something), though Atticus tells him that since he has hair from one of the witches, he can track them himself. This assumes that the witches will all hang out together, especially since they know that he has a hair sample from one of them. But the villains being stupid is pretty par for the course in Iron Druid books; remember, the last book’s Plot had the villain render himself impotent in his elaborate revenge scheme.
The Leprechaun makes them sandwiches and tea, while Atticus tells Hal what’s going on. He declares that he needs to end this conflict tonight! He’s tired of the witches going after his friends. Except, I’m remembering that Atticus had a moment like this in the last book, where he declared he was going to take the Plot seriously, and it led to him walking around as if everything was normal until the baddies kidnap Hal and Oberon.
Now, despite the pack supposedly not helping him, he asks Hal to have people watching the Leprechaun’s house. Gunnar, the alpha who the other werewolves HAVE to obey, won’t like it, but Hal promises that if he has to do it himself, he will. Isn’t it great that this conflict between Gunnar and Atticus doesn’t get in the way of them doing what he wants on the sidelines, even though it isn’t resolved?
Make It Easy!: 25
Atticus tells Hal that he needs him to go with him to be a witness to the nonaggression treaty he’s going to sign with Malina’s coven. Why that needs to be done NOW, I don’t know, given that they’re clearly allies in this fight, though I guess I can’t fault him for wanting it in writing? Hal says he can do it later that afternoon, but earlier he has to be in court. He also encourages Atticus to go to the police and make a statement about Perry. He then tells Hal he needs a better alibi, because he leans too much on Granuaile for “I was hanging out with my girlfriend” as an explanation to the police. This time, he wants “something ironclad”.
Hal nodded. “All right. I’ll send a couple of reliable sorts over to kill time with her at your house. They’ll have a Lord of the Rings festival or something and testify you made the popcorn if necessary.”
…“a Lord of the Rings festival”??
Is the word you’re looking for ‘marathon’???
Did Not Do Homework: 15
Atticus admits he’d rather be doing that than what he has to do, and I feel very strange in that I agree with him! I’d much rather be watching The Lord of the Rings than reading his shenanigans.
Hal has one werewolf go watch over the Leprechaun, and three more to go to Atticus’s house later with Granny. Atticus declares that now he’ll go talk to the police, and Hal points out that right now, he’s only wearing a towel. Atticus replies that since he last left the shop by going on the roof and turning into an owl, his clothes are still there on the roof–he just needs to go get them. When Hal asks why he did that, our hero explains that he did that to escape the Russian rabbi, and then inquires if Hal’s dug up any information on it–he hasn’t, so we have to wait for later to learn/care.
They wait for one of the werewolves to arrive to accompany the Leprechaun before they leave. The werewolf in question is Greta, and we’re told this as if we’re supposed to know/care who that is. We ARE told that she “only just survived the fight” at the end of the last book, which makes me think that she probably doesn’t like hanging around with Atticus or doing him favors right now. Atticus, surprisingly, does not really think about this because he assumes everyone exists to serve his needs. Sadly, given the quality of this writing, they do.
Make It Easy!: 26
Hal tells Greta to take the Leprechaun for a drive out of town for the night. Leprechaun suggests going to Flagstaff, which has a steakhouse she likes, and werewolves like steaks, right? That sounds like a stereotype, but Hal gives Greta money for it, and the Leprechaun harasses Atticus some more before leaving.
Christmas isn’t all that far away, ye know. Would ye be likin’ a nice set of boxers this year?”
“Mrs. MacDonagh!” I said, embarrassed.
“What? Yer the sort that wears briefs, then?
Yadda yadda, she tells him that he shouldn’t be “goin’ commando”, and Atticus asks where she heard that term, and it’s on television from an episode of Friends. And she explains the context on the episode of Friends (I assume the explanation is correct, though I don’t know because I never care about the show), because we need to establish that Kevin Hearne has knowledge of a trendy modern show like Friends.
The Kids These Days: 11
Atticus says goodbye as Hal laughs at the entire conversation. Thus ends Chapter 19.
Hal drives Atticus to near his store, and he decides to fly up to the roof and throw his stuff down to Hal. Wait, isn’t the stuff on his roof his clothes and phone? He specifically tells Hal that he’ll toss down his cell phone to him, so not to drop it. Shouldn’t he just… shapeshift into an owl, fly up, turn human again, get dressed, and climb down? It can’t be that tall of a building, can it? Why is he tossing the stuff from the roof?
There’s a fun little moment where Atticus drops the towel, and Hal pretends he’s been blinded. Actually okay writing about their friendship? In this novel? What? He drops his stuff down to Hal, and presumably goes down and changes, though it doesn’t actually say, and then he checks his phone and calls Granny. She asks him if he’s going to get revenge for Perry the Goth, and then says “can I just tell you one of the many reasons I love you?” Atticus responds in kind, telling us again, as if we’re stupid, that this is their code for an alibi when they’re on the phone. The alibi is only the cover that was discussed in the last chapter though, that they’re having some friends over for a Lord of the Rings “festival” (again, the word they probably mean is “marathon”??), and they hang up.
So Atticus and Hal walk out of an alley to see the CSI guys taking pictures of Perry’s corpse. Because, of course, when you’re trying to appear completely innocent and unnoticeable at a crime scene of someone you know, you walk out from an alley, right? Okay, not knowing the geography of the place, it might be the easiest way to get there. It still SOUNDS a little weird though, doesn’t it?
Atticus is actually bothered by Perry’s death, as the guy never did anything to hurt anyone. He thinks that because the store is magically protected, the witch must have lured Perry outside to do the killing curse.
Perry would have looked at the black leather and stepped right out to ask how he could help.
Um, okay.
To Hearne’s credit, Atticus seems genuinely upset about Perry’s death, but this falls a bit flat because Perry hasn’t been developed as a character or in his relationship to the protagonist. We know almost nothing about his personality. Atticus tells now that Perry the Goth is a peaceful young man who wouldn’t hurt a fly (would make pillaging Rome difficult, I imagine), that he’s got a weird ear piercing, and that he’s easily distracted by attractive women. But we didn’t know any of this before! We know almost nothing about him, other than that he’s cheerful, he’s a Goth, and he’s a nerd who loves Monty Python! For all we know about Perry, he could have a unibrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle, and lead a troupe of actors in a life of crime! All Hearne told us is that he’s a nerd and a Goth. The sympathy we’re supposed to feel here isn’t nothing, but it mostly falls flat–if Atticus really cared this much about Perry the Goth before his death, why hasn’t this been shown to us before now?
Detective Geffert, the one on duty here, who was also the Detective from Chapter 15, sees our hero and approaches. Atticus says he doesn’t have to pretend to be upset, as he really is upset. He doesn’t even respond the first time the Detective questions him.
“Mr. O’Sullivan,” Geffert tried again, “God knows how you must feel right now, but I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
It was a surprisingly considerate approach. I’d half-expected him to be belligerent and suspicious.
…why? I know that this is the same detective from earlier, whose name I didn’t bother to learn, but does he not realize that maybe the police officer would try to act nice to someone whose employee has just dropped dead?
You might be wondering what a homicide detective is doing here, given Perry was cursed, and so there’s no evidence or wounds that necessarily mean murder. Hal asks just that, and the Detective says he’s collecting evidence and asks where Atticus was when this happened. He answers that he was at home watching Kill Bill with his girlfriend. The Detective points out that he called Atticus’s number, and no one picked up (because it was on the roof of the store building with his clothes); Atticus’s explanation is that he never answers the phone because he’s tired of calls from telemarketers.
My voice had all the richness of expression of a cement block.
I think what Hearne/Atticus is going for here is that he’s in shock over Perry’s death? We’ll talk about this more in a bit.
The Detective asks how Atticus heard about Perry’s death then; Atticus says Hal told him, and Hal says that he found out because they have a police radio in the law office. There are some generic crime scene questions, like how long Perry’s worked at the store (two years–and yet he never noticed Atticus didn’t age when he’s pretending to be twenty-one?), if he had any enemies (none), that sort of stuff. He asks about other employees and regular customers, and then asks for tapes from the security cameras.
The Detective asks if there was anything “that might have hinted this was coming?” and, uh, Atticus gives us this:
Besides my divination that morning? No. A giant flock of guilt flew in and settled down upon my shoulders. “‘Not a whit,’” I said softly, past the tightening throat. “‘We defy augury.’”
“Beg your pardon?”
“‘There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow,’” I whispered, my vision blurring a bit, Perry’s still form losing focus.
The Detective is understandably confused by this, and asks what the heck that means. Although, because Hearne wants us to think that Atticus is smarter than any other man to ever live, the Detective thinks “providence” is a reference to the city in Rhode Island.
Better Than You: 14
The quote is from Hamlet, in case you’re curious. Act V, scene ii. Atticus pulls out Shakespeare quotes to prove he’s the smartest smart person a lot.
Better Than You: 15
You know, we’re not done here. Because while I am not a Shakespeare scholar, quick Googling confirms a couple of things: the line in Hamlet is an indirect reference to a quote from Jesus in the Gospels (Matthew 10: 28-31) about how God notices even the falling of a sparrow, and cares much more for His human subjects than for birds, so of course he cares about you. It’s also a quote about giving up illusions of control and letting God, or Providence, or whatever, take up the reins of your life.
None of this applies to Atticus (even aside from the fact that he’s obsessed with Shakespeare, a fact which makes no sense but I’ve covered that before). Okay, yes, he foresaw through divination that someone he knew was in danger. Everything else though? Atticus does not care about the will of God, or Heaven, or the gods, or what have you. It’s also a fairly explicit Christian reference in the play, and Atticus isn’t Christian!
Did Not Do Homework: 16
When the Detective asks more, he admits that it’s “a private elegy for the deceased”. The Detective notices that he’s talking a lot more eloquently than his cover identity would indicate, and he’s a bit distressed by that, coming up with a horrible excuse.
“Gotta develop the noggin along with the nunchucks, dude,” I replied in the same low monotone I’d used since I arrived. “I don’t just sell books, I actually read them too.”
The Detective is like, “Oh, okay,” but Atticus notes that he’s probably caught on to something. Especially because I don’t think he sells Shakespeare in the store.
Hey, can you imagine an ancient immortal who is skilled at blending in, and is so paranoid, that the death of a guy he kind of knew sent him into such melancholy that he let his cover slip?
You Keep Using That Word: 30
This man is over two thousand years old. You’re telling me because Perry the Goth died that he’s slipping up? I might let this pass if they were shown to be close, but that’s not what we’ve gotten at all! We had no reason to think that Atticus was this emotionally attached to Perry!
The Detective asks if he’s found his sword since they last spoke, and Atticus says he hasn’t.
The detective paused and wrote something down on his notepad that was significantly longer than “No.”
Alright, I found that a bit amusing. I like this detective guy.
The guy wraps up the questioning, the body’s taken away, Atticus closes the shop and calls his new employee, telling her what happened and that she should stay home for a couple of days. He bikes home, to find the Detective at the house already talking to Granny to make sure the alibi makes sense.
Also, Oberon makes a stupid joke about the Detective being “The Man” and how he “smells like mildewed socks and tuna fish.” I want to be clear in saying that thus far, the Detective has not actually done anything wrong, or even been particularly rude in handling this case in any of the chapters he’s appeared in.
Detective points out that he rode a bike home, but earlier that day he went to the store on foot. Atticus said he leaves the bike there sometimes because he likes walking home. The Detective also points out that he did recognize that what Atticus said earlier was a quote, so he talked to a dispatcher at the station who has an English degree and told him it was from Hamlet. Atticus tries to play it cool, though the Detective points out that he’s quite obviously hiding something, given the way he’s answering questions, and how the previous day when they searched the house he sounded like an idiot, only now he can quote Shakespeare at the drop of a hat.
My patience evaporated like a dewdrop in Yuma and my anger throttled my better sense. “‘Is’t not enough to break into my garden, and, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, but thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?’”
…hoo boy.
Detective Geffert asks what that’s from, and Atticus says it’s from Henry the Sixth, Part Two.
The detective frowned. “How much Shakespeare have you memorized?”
“All of it. _Dude._” I don’t know why I sneered at him; it wasn’t smart to taunt him like that make busting me a personal crusade. Yet regardless of how wise it wasn’t, I held his eyes recklessly with a testosterone challenge flaring away in mine, and he saw not only that but confirmed the spark of intelligence he’d glimpsed earlier. Then he knew that I’d sold him a bill of goods the day before, played him and all his cronies for fools. His jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed, which Granuaile and Oberon both noticed.
Excuse me for a second.
[walks back while sipping apple juice out of a jug with a curly straw]
Alright, let’s analyze this.
Part of why Iron Druid Chronicles in general, and Atticus in particular, are so annoying is that the text keeps reinforcing this idea over and over and over and over again: Atticus is clever. He tells us and the other characters several times that his paranoia has kept him alive for centuries, and other characters remark that they’ve never met anyone as paranoid as Atticus.
Except, as we’ve covered dozens of times in this sporking, he’s not. The first book has several instances of characters appearing and telling Atticus that some villain was in town, gunning for his head, only for him to have an initial freakout and then go about his day as if nothing was wrong. He has no clue what’s going on around him, keeps trusting the witches while telling us that they can’t be trusted, and thinks it’s no big deal that the gods of every mythology, avoiding whom is the reason he moved to Tempe in the first place, all know where he lives.
More frustrating than that, though, is the moments in the story where Atticus/Hearne basically turns to the audience and says, “Look, I _know this is a stupid idea, but I can’t help it. I have to do something stupid.” He did this in Chapter 15 of the last book, and he’s doing it here.
This man is so dumb! How are we supposed to take any of this writing seriously? We’re told again and again that Atticus is clever, that he’s in control, that he knows what he’s doing. He’s an immortal mage who supposedly lasted for over two thousand years using his wits and cleverness, being good at blending in with others, and yet in instances like this, we’re told that A) he can’t hold in his grief for the death a guy he’s never show anything more than detached amusement for and B) he can’t help but deliberately provoke an armed officer of the law when he’s called out on his lies?
You Keep Using That Word: 31
I’m not done here! Atticus has effectively blown his cover in every possible way! He came to Tempe to avoid the gods, and yet they all know where he lives as of Chapter 1. He’s created a fake identity to be able to live in peace–except now for two books in a row, the police have realized that something is up with this guy, even if they don’t know what, precisely. And he all but admitted to this detective, to his face, that he’s lying to him about who he is and where he’s been, and rubbing it in the man’s face because he can.
Again, I want to emphasize: the Detective has done nothing wrong. He is investigating deaths, and the lead he has is a man who is obviously lying to him and obviously lied to the police about a death weeks ago (the events of the first book). If Atticus were a character written in a way remotely likable, his frustration would be understandable, though it’d also be mixed with wishing that he didn’t have to lie to a guy who was trying to do the right thing.
Yeah, we can have a conversation about the police and their abuse of power. Sure (just not in the comments because that’s heavier than I want to deal with on ImpishIdea). This doesn’t apply here, though–Atticus has never expressed problems with law enforcement throwing their weight around against anyone but him. His issues with the police boils down to “They question me and my obviously fake cover stories, therefore they are scum.” And this cop, Detective Geffert? He has broken no laws and not done anything outside of what he legally can to figure out the crime of the deaths at the nightclub.
Atticus’s attitude, of course, is that this man is filth because “How dare he not bend over backwards to do what I want him to?” After all, other characters like Hal and Granny do! He has no sympathy for someone who isn’t serving him. It’s like the attitude of someone who is mean to the waiter/waitress, up to eleven.
[Considering the werewolf pack leader, Gunnar, is also not doing what Atticus wants, I wouldn’t be surprised if he became a villain in a later book for Atticus to kill, and we’re meant to cheer him on over it.]
In a weird turn of events, Oberon of all characters is the one who says, “Hey, maybe that’s not such a great idea to sneer at the cops.” And no! It’s not! It’s really dumb to openly antagonize law enforcement officers! Atticus is still really clever, though, amirite??
Granny awkwardly interrupts to prompt the Detective to leave, because someone has to say something to diffuse the situation. The Detective agrees to leave, though he’s got one last point to make: the previous day, when part of Atticus’s cover explanation was that A) he has both ears, unlike the guy at the club massacre they’re looking for, and B) he has receipts from Target where he bought stuff? The Detective went to double check and looked at the security tapes from Target, and he is indeed there! But in the security footage, he’s missing an ear.
Atticus lies and says he had both ears then, though the Detective again says that he didn’t in the tape. Our protagonist shoots back that it’s “A low-resolution video in terrible lighting” (has he seen it himself?). He adds that his ear isn’t prosthetic, and offers to let the Detective prove it by pulling on it. Which he does, weirdly, though he leaves to go oversee an autopsy afterward.
Have you ever been so paranoid that you lied to a police officer, to his face, about something that he knows, and you know that he knows, and he knows that you know that he knows1 is a lie?
You Keep Using That Word: 32
The last paragraph of the chapter summarizes that Atticus chilled with Granny and Oberon for the rest of the afternoon. Then Hal picks him up, and
Though I never thought I’d say it in my long life, I was going to make peace with witches.
Atticus had an agreement with the local coven at the start of the first book! They’d done each other a favor! WHY is he acting like this is so ridiculous? Why does he apparently hate witches so much that he can’t even imagine making peace with them?
I want an answer to this, Hearne! Why does he hate witches so much? None of the answers he’s given us make witches any less trustworthy than, say, the serial-killing vampire lawyer, or the Morrigan, who he regularly pals around with. And of course, it amounts to nothing, because despite constantly telling us that he hates them and they can’t be trusted, he keeps trusting them. If Malina really wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have to hex him, she has enough money and power that she could easily hire or enchant someone to throw a bomb through his store window. The fact that she hasn’t should be an obvious indicator that she doesn’t want him dead.
Ugh. Anyway, that’s it for now. Next time we’ll be introduced to a few more good witches, and, twenty-one chapters in, FINALLY get the backstory on the evil witch coven that has been antagonizing Atticus the entire book.
Have a happy Halloween, and wish me luck to survive National Novel Writing Month this November!
Better Than You: 15
Did Not Do Homework: 16
The Kids These Days: 11
You Keep Using That Word: 32
Make It Easy!: 26
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 31
1 Double-check my math here. I may have lost track of this sentence.
Aikaterini on 31 October 2023, 09:24 said:
Happy Halloween!
Okay, now I want the Leprechaun to go away. Either be thrown out of town for being a sexually harassing creep or be thrown into jail for being a sexually harassing creep. Why on earth does the book think that this kind of behavior makes her charming or endearing? It doesn’t! It does the exact opposite!
Okay, so Hal is disturbed. Which means that the book is on some level aware that the Leprechaun’s behavior is uncomfortable and disturbing. And yet we’re still supposed to laugh at this. Is Hal the book’s inner voice of reason that’s struggling to get out? He’s been way more aware of his surroundings and social situations than Atticus has and now he has the appropriate reaction to the Leprechaun’s behavior.
Good, one of my wishes is somewhat granted. I hope that Greta dumps the Leprechaun off at a seedy hotel where the guests and owner have far less tolerance for her perverted antics.
Wait, I thought that Hal was disturbed when the Leprechaun slapped Atticus on the bum. Now he thinks that she’s funny? Well, at least the Leprechaun is going away for the time being.
And because Hearne wants us to think that Atticus is smarter than any other man to ever live, he makes Atticus look like an idiot. His employee has just died and he’s showing off with Shakespeare quotes (which is not at all like how Jace Wayland from “The Mortal Instruments” would behave, right)? And as you mentioned, his pretentious attitude ends up blowing his cover. Yeah, I sure see that it was all worth it just to show off how smarter he is than that lowly human cop.
This is a trope that I’ve seen often, and it really annoys me because it’s just a cheap excuse to create conflict. I’ve seen this in crime dramas or detective novels where a witness or bystander is inexplicably rude and hostile to a detective for no good reason. It’s like writers know that stories should have conflict and they’ve heard over and over that they shouldn’t make things too easy for their protagonists. But then they go overboard and instead of having no conflict, they create pointless conflict. It’s nothing more than the narrative equivalent of a treadmill. The plot doesn’t progress, there’s no motivation given for why the person is being belligerent instead of just cooperating, and nothing is gained. It’s just a big flashing neon sign that screams “Obstacle” instead of doing anything worthwhile.
Faranae on 2 November 2023, 12:58 said:
This is not how you use either “bloody” or “curses” as expletives. While I normally get mildly irked by phrases like “he swore with impressive creativity”(please, share with the class, I will take notes!), it turns out you can do worse!
Not Perry! And he didn’t even get an on-screen death?! Not that he had any characterization other than what the Impish community had given him, which is apparently more interesting than what Hearne came up with in this chapter.
Irish people don’t swear in this manner, and I don’t know why Hearne has picked this particular mythological figure. He’s not even a particularly clever figure?
I once had to explain Warhammer 40k wargaming to a lawyer, who then had to explain it to another lawyer and a judge, and it still got less garbled than this. But also, if Hal is a skeevy lawyer, that’s fine, but bald-faced lying is lazy writing.
This would be vastly improved by the Impish “Irish” gloss.
So, the perimeter isn’t secured. Good job those cops.
Or, hear me out here, he could have just said it was a Shakespeare quote! People quote Shakespeare all the time, and not just sarcastically or ironically or to be funny. If Atticus had had two brain cells to rub together, his cover story as an apparent 21 year old would be that he’s a giant nerd with a trust fund in perpetual grad school with a never-ending dissertation. Then he could quote Shakespeare all he liked and no one would blink! I go around quoting William Blake, and that’s 10 times weirder!
Just to add to the justified “he’s not paranoid” rant: myths about the effects of testosterone have been extremely damaging to society generally and to trans men especially and I resent Hearne reinforcing those once again. Machismo has nothing to do with testosterone. A lot of what people attribute to T is in fact the result of steroid use and the conflation society has with hyper-masculine men (like bodybuilders) and testosterone as the “masculinizing” hormone.
Math’s good! Book’s bad.
Juracan on 4 November 2023, 08:32 said:
Given the caliber of “jokes” in this book, I’m willing to say, “The author has a horrible sense of humor.”
One might think! He is, I think, the closest to a “normal” person that we have in the book, so maybe he’s supposed to be the Straight Man to all the weirdness going on?
Or to us. I honestly think this bit is meant to show off how smart Atticus is to the audience. “When he’s overcome by emotion, he quotes Shakespeare! Isn’t he amazing!” You’re right, it’s remarkably like writing Jace Wayland in some ways—random bits of “depth” to show off that he’s a really attractive, intellectual man.
Right! There’s no reason for this! He could easily get through this, but instead he’s deliberately showing off to the police because he (and Hearne) can’t help but show off how much smarter than them he is! If we’re being generous, we would say, “This is Atticus’s own character flaws making problems for him later down the road,” but we’re repeatedly told that this foolhardiness isn’t one of his flaws!
What are we supposed to think of this other than a stupid character and bad writing?
You CAN do worse! I don’t understand why this is supposed to sound like something someone would ever say. You can make up fantasy/mythological curses—but this? This was just lazy on Hearne’s part.
I know, right? When Atticus says in this chapter that he would have been easily lured by a hot woman in leather, I was like, “Uh… yeah, I guess that doesn’t contradict anything we’ve seen, but it’s not supported by it either?”
Let’s assume that trait is Atticus projecting. It fits.
Alright so this one is actually because, I think, Mannanan Mac Lir is the one who takes the souls of the dead to the afterlife across the sea (unless they’re killed in battle, then that’s Morrigan). “Mannanan Mac Lir take me for a fool” is roughly, “Wow, I’ve been so stupid I could have gotten killed/might as well be dead.”
Please, Hal has been recommending lying since the first book! When Atticus suggests not bald-faced lying, Hal is stunned until he admits that he’s totally planning on doing it, he just wants to know all of his options.
Hearne really went with the “Amoral Attorney” stereotype as far as he could; the thing is, he thought it was fun.
Hm. Let’s see…
There you go.
The cops in Iron Druid are maddening in how incompetent they are. Remember, when a cop is brainwashed into shooting Atticus in the last book, he decides he’d rather go down trying to kill his fellow cops than be arrested. For… Reasons.
That’s… actually true. It wouldn’t have been that weird! Instead, the “oh so paranoid” Atticus starts explaining it as an elegy. If he’d just said it was a Shakespeare quote then he’d have been fine!
It’s actually kind of weird that his cover is that he’s both a huge nerd and also a massive idiot…
I did not know this! Feels like another example of Hearne not doing his homework. He tends to run on pop cultural understandings of… well, everything, and assumes it’s all correct.
Regardless, you’d think that someone with Atticus’s experience wouldn’t lose his cool like this.
Oh good, glad to see I’m right.