On Oct 8, 2005, at 6:49 AM, Leonard Matusik wrote:
Sat, 1 Oct 2005 23:40:41 -0700 Warren Ockrassa wrote:
(Snip)
. In my <br>notebook it's called "The Pelagics".<br><br>I'm tossing
it out not because of Narcissism. It's >because I think it
<br>doesn't suck and others might like it.
No, it doesn't suck in the least actually. I kinda like it.
Well, thanks.
It reminds me of the *AqueousApesTheory* popularized by Desmond Morris
in "The Naked Ape". The meter might be improved by a little editing
(by some close friends). It has too many conjunctions for my taste.
I wasn't really going for a smooth meter; I can manage things like
that, of course, but the voice of both the verse and a lot of the full
book itself tends to get a bit … well, wordy.
The Fisherfolk use a single word (fairly long) to convey ideas with a
sort of steppingstone approach. Of course their language is not
pronounceable by conventional humans; there's too much echolocation
bred into them for that to work, and the Fisherfolk have a way of
looking *through* time that doesn't map well to conventional spoken
expression.
Thus when one of the characters, a marine biologist, has a face-to-face
meeting with them, we get something like this:
==
"Terresh Shushesh," the first Fisherfolk said. It took me a few
moments to recognize my name, longer to understand that it was a
question.
"I am," I managed. (In folkspek. I could do that much at least.)
And then —
To greet and formally state myself (clicks and rills from the throat
cartilage distinguished this from the less imposing salutations
Fisherfolk use when dealing with inter-pod communications)
(a roll from the lung pockets indicating that the term erilluyiullniu
was being conjugated from myself into a self-description)
Distance-swimmer of the pod of six stars founded with the second
great turning after settlement and Scintillan (for they use the old
designation, as scintillate is a verb while gem is a noun) naturation
(another rumble and three rapid clacks from the cartilage to show an
extension of the self-designation)
Podmaster-scion of the realms without and aside the settlement of
dryside designate Water With Person Study
(trill at the back of the throat to show a cognitive loop to
the initial topic of discussion)
Request dialogue in open friendly nature with
(there is no direct pronunciation of my name in folkspek and as my
title was probably unknown, this was preceded by a soft glottal gargle
that I think was meant to be partially apologetic)
Scion of the Courageous (which is a passable transliteration of my
family name)
(rumble once more, but instead of three, two clicks)
Jongleur of oceandeep's seagreen treasures (a more lovely title
than that given me by CIAPAR)
(terminal loopback trill) Have befriended
Will engage
Are meeting (one word but with all
three major tenses indicated)
— a rolling collection of vowels, consonants and sounds that cannot
be uttered by human means apart from that possessed by the Fisherfolk,
and that took just over a second to convey.
Knowing my limits I opted not to reply in kind, in folkspek, but
rather nodded and hoped the gesture was understood as recognition of
the meaning-sentence-thought. "I am Tirra Shujaa of the Castor
Institute for Advanced Pelagic and Anthropological Research of Rel
Monoke, professor and doctor of exobiology, respectfully submitting
salutation and welcome to —" a falter — "Swimmer of Six."
==
Of course in the story another major character is schizophrenic and
bipolar, so there are other more bizarre passages told from his POV.
There are places that can get lyrical too, like when *another*
character wakens early in his self-imposed exile from his peer group.
FWIW Castor and Pollux are twin worlds tidally locked, largely pelagic
and orbiting a binary system comprised of a small blue star and a
yellow dwarf companion, Sapphire and Topaz:
==
The days were still breaking leached of color.
He knew they were fulgent with chromatic splendors, rich golds and
blazing lavenders, suns' patina upon the crescent of his tilting world;
a dome serially violet and cobalt and salmon and coral and afire.
Skyward, significantly higher than at home (for he had been working
bulgeward), an oblate sphere imperfected with terminator's slice
whorled bluegreen-white spirals, cataracted by incessant dayward stare.
The ring that had been Sapphire pierced by Topaz was no more; the
yellow had distended and was being thrust once again from the bound of
its greater, hotter other's embrace. The cooler of the cool seasons was
beginning to ebb.
Lights dappled on the sea, cyan and viridian wells with turquoise and
cream crests as the air shifted, picked up, cooler waves fleeing before
the press of warmth that accompanied daybreak, damp and a little chill
first and scented with the freshness of cyanobacteria and the distinct
aroma of marine life, the sights, sounds, sensations he had known his
life through. Bled now of their richness, their beauty, ashen shades of
themselves. He knew their inconstance was not theirs; it was he who had
drained.
The distractions of his body kept him diverted and a verb. His needs,
organic and thus urgent, to eat, excrete, copulate, were met as they
rose: haffok Castorwide were willing as ever to consort with Barque
brats. They were of a kind. In their fractured pods he found solace of
a sort, sustenance of a variety, and while it did not ease the
hemorrhage of bitter sorrow in his breast it kept him from despair
arrant, let him regain the habituation of life and realize, through
that sodden plod, it did go on, that he could live even after half of
him had been ripped away.
Trel — who had not been Fan for a while now — rubbed his eyes
fitfully, crusted with ringertracks. (Ma telling him when he was
kneehigh the ringers snuck into bed at night with little boys and girls
to keep warm, leaving sandy tracks in their eyecorners on escaping in
the morning. The story had not charmed him; ringers looked freakish and
the idea of sleeping with one had prolly warped his tiny little brain.)
Sat up and smirked at his sleep hardon. Some things, it seemed, were
constant after all. Stretched and slipped into the water by his foil.
==
But the above folkspek transliteration sort of conveys (sans
formatting, alas) the basics of folkspek and the way the Fisherfolk
communicate. In later dialogues I elide the description of sounds made
and just do the words, usually as blank verse comprised of three to
five lines at a time. Here's the same character giving a little
background on the Fisherfolk:
==
"The story they tell is that they landed here, guided by Topaz, who
they say is shining with golden truth, and Sapphire, whose eye is blue
as the ocean they were born to,
calling into change
growing as blessed sustainers
keeping within the circle
gathered together as chosen
/called."
Leen stared at him. "That's amazing," she said softly.
He explained the meaning of the word. "They see Castor as being the
world they were meant to live on. To them they were already prepared to
change, and it sort of — you know how a slip has a docking alignment
beacon for boats? Or how a starport's spires guide in skiffs, or the
clamp arrays align dirigible motor shafts?" She nodded. "Same idea.
Castor just sort of guided them, they say. They don't really believe
that stuff about Topaz n Sapphire, or they say they don't anyway, but
they repeat it anyhow like they half do."
==
Fisherfolk dialogue is kind of tough to write. I wish I'd made them a
little less complex in that regard, but oh well.
--
Warren Ockrassa, Publisher/Editor, nightwares Books
<http://books.nightwares.com/>
Current work in progress "The Seven-Year Mirror"
<http://books.nightwares.com/ockrassa/Flat_Out.pdf>
<http://books.nightwares.com/ockrassa/Storms_on_a_Flat_Placid_Sea.pdf>
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