When I was a young girl I succumbed to one of the fads of my time. I loved The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. In a way, even if a lot of the story now seems like an extended cliche, I still do.
When I was re-reading Darkship Thieves, before setting about writing the sequel, I was haunted by a quote from Saint-Exupery even though I hadn’t re-read The Little Prince in… thirty years: “What moves me so deeply, about this little prince who is sleeping here, is his loyalty to a flower–the image of a rose that shines through his whole being like the flame of a lamp, even when he is asleep . . .”
I don’t know if this is just me – of course, Darkship Thieves is my book, so I would feel this more, right? – or if it communicated itself to other people, but after not reading the book for two years (and trust me, as much as I’ve written since, it feels longer ago) I suddenly felt as though what made the book powerful were the parts I never went into: the weight of history behind Kit and Thena, the dank, dark, blood soaked history of the mules; the clawing of a space of safety and life for the descendants of the bio-improved people;the repression on Earth.
Perhaps it is because the second book deals with a lot more of that history, and how it comes back to bite you in the behind when you least expect it. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that, as my sons reach an age when their moving out of the house is (hopefully – if their plans go right) within a very short reach of a couple of years or so, and then my life will change completely – and the years of raising them that seemed so long in passing now appear to be no more than a fast blink, in the rearview mirror.
All of a sudden, I find myself thinking in an historical dimension, generations following generations, each no less important, not less individual, no less intense, but made, shaped, confined and somehow changed by all that went before and what they wish to make sure comes after.
It’s a humbling view, like looking at the sea and realizing that before you were born it was beating at this same shore, close to the same spot – that millennia after you’re dust in the dust it will still be doing so. At the same time, it is an exalted view, because while you’re alive – you, ephemeral and passing as you are – can build a cement barrier and change where that wave hits. Or you can walk down to the shore, let the ocean bathe your feet, and leave a little of your warmth and life in it, forever. Who we love and hate, what we believe and fight for, all leave a mark – even if it might seem minute.
It’s exactly the same with characters, at least in my mind. And what makes Thena such a powerful character, for me, is her love for Kit. As interesting a personality as she is, what makes her come alive for me is her love for this deeply flawed man, for whom she would rebuild the universe over, if needed.
It shines in her, even when she’s completely still.
Perhaps this makes me a complete fool, or at least a romantic one, but it is in their feelings for each other, in their intense involvement in their brief moment on the page, in their unspoken love – which perhaps doesn’t fit into words – that I find my characters alive on the page and vibrating with a purpose and mind of their own.
According To Hoyt 