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nocowardsoul) wrote2025-01-22 09:37 am
nocowardsoul) wrote2025-01-22 09:37 am
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Fic Commentary: Prayers to Saint Nicholas (Beyond the Western Sea)
I wanted to post something for the day the book - well, the main plot - starts, but I didn't have fic to finish or graphics to make. So commentary it is.
I first started this fic in 2009. It was inspired by the fanfic100 prompt of either "parents" or "children." I don't remember when I came up with the title, but I love it as a reference both to the patron saint of children and to the book's use of saint names for almost every significant character. I posted it on April 23, 2022.
Jeremiah Jenkins dreams of memories. The boy feeds ducks at the park. He peels an orange on Christmas morning. He sits in a pew alongside his father, balancing a heavy hymn-book on his little knees.
I like that first line. I had to mention that it was specifically Christmas because when the image first came to me I forgot about the cost of oranges. I didn't name the son who doesn't have a name in the book, but I headcanon it as either George or Peter.
Jeremiah Jenkins wakes to a nightmare. The bed across from his lies empty. He breaks bread alone. He walks the Lowell streets in the mornings without a destination, without a companion, without a machine to tend. Children pass by on their way to school, and in their chatter he hears more and more foreign accents each day.
He must do something, he realizes. His boy must be avenged. He enters the silent room and starts the fire. In his mind wood strikes flint, and a plan begins to form.
I wanted to emphasize his loneliness, as a widower with a dead child. This I feel is the least interesting of the six sections since it covers things already known, but I like the images.
Timothy O'Connell dies at night with his mother and siblings right beside him, good-bye and I love you said and said again.
The fact that they get to say good-bye to him was meant to make the fic a little less sad. Originally I had it as day but then I saw that the book said night.
The sun shines on the day of his burial, yet the air is cold. Father Mahoney digs the grave for lack of anyone else available. Annie O'Connell wraps her shawl around her as she and Maura and Patrick say the prayer for the dead.
She wants to cry, to weep like she did when her first babe was stillborn, and Gregory soothed her with hands and words. She finds it impossible. Hunger and grief weigh heavy upon her heart, along with the husband who may have perished at sea. Inside she feels emptiness and dread. Let Patrick and Maura live, she asks. They are all that's left to her.
She's a sympathetic character, but not anywhere near my favorite. It was kind of bad for her to abandon Maura and Patrick even if her motivation makes sense. She's in despair. The dead baby was meant as a way to explain why Maura and Patrick are late in life children, which I think is a flaw in the book. Yes, I added another non-canon dead character to a story about canon dead characters.
“Come in,” Albert says when Lady Kirkle knocks on his door.
Here it goes from pre-canon to during-canon. This was the last of the six concepts that I came up with. The earlier version had Lady Kirkle talking to Lord Kirkle. Browsing the book for this fic, I realized that she never learns on-page what Albert did, so I decided to write about that. Her knocking instead of walking in without knocking was deliberate.
He has nearly finished packing, she sees. “I spoke to your father. He insists on your going to America.”
“Well, I will,” he says, not without petulance.
She looks at her almost-grown second child. A fine-looking young man. He has all that he could desire – except his father's affection. “Did you truly hire a man to take Laurence?”
He cracks his knuckles. “Yes, I did.”
“Albert, how could you?”
“I only want what's mine!”
Like the book, she's more concerned about what Albert did and the potential scandal than Laurence's actual safety. I find her an interesting character, partly because she's a bit enigmatic. I wish she was mentioned more in the book, in fact.
“You upset your father. I don't think it's reasonable for him to send you away, but it is reasonable for him to be angry. Did you realize what a scandal this could create? Didn't you think of your sisters?”
His face falls. “I was thinking of myself.”
Lady Kirkle sighs. “When you return – and you will return – can't you stop fighting with your brother?”
“Perhaps.”
That isn't the answer she wants to hear, but it's the only answer she can expect him to give. “All right. It won't be long now until you're at school, so simply be patient until then.” She kisses his cheek. “I'll pray for you each day. I love you.”
Her brief scene in The Escape from Home gives off the impression that she picks her battles, so that's what she does here. The question of whether or not Albert and Laurence attend school or have tutors is a question that has occupied my mind a lot. Charlotte's dad not wanting her to miss school is the entire reason the plot of The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle happens, so BTWS not mentioning it stands out. I meant for "school" here to mean Oxford/Cambridge.
Nathaniel and the priest walk home as quick as they can. “Ah,” says Mr. O'Connell when they enter the room, sounding pleased even though his voice is weak.
The young man stands there, head bowed, as the priest and Mr. O'Connell say their parts, and he tries not to cry.
I was vague on the Catholic last rites because although I didn't care about the sections being of exactly equal length, I didn't want any to be noticeably longer than the others. I remember deciding to write Gregory's part in Nathaniel's PoV early on. I like to think it works, and this is my favorite part of the six.
“I only wish,” Mr. O'Connell says, “that I could see me family one last time.”
“Yes," says Nathaniel. “But don't you worry. When they arrive in Boston I'll be there to meet them. You have my word.” A thought comes to him all of a sudden. “And if they don't arrive, why, Mr. O'Connell, you'll see them soon.”
Of course, neither of them know Timothy is dead, so according to their own beliefs, Gregory will see him soon. I also wish the book talked about Timothy more. Gregory is a small part, but Patrick and Maura think of him very fondly, and their assumption that he would be fine with adopting Bridy says everything.
A smile appears on his tired face, and he says, “Aye, that I will,” and he dies.
Nathaniel sits down and swallows hard; the priest gives him condolences, and he thanks him.
This is the first story I ever posted where I was purposefully trying to create an emotional response in the reader. Whether I pulled it off I don't know. I wasn't able to get it beta'ed before my self-imposed deadline, and I couldn't change the deadline from St. George/Shakespeare day.
She was angry earlier, and now, having watched her husband die before her, she's even more angry underneath her broken heart.
Nothing will help them now, she thinks bitterly. The Lord in his wisdom sees fit to send sickness and death after famine, and all Mrs. Faherty can do is pray for her husband's soul.
Like Annie but unlike Jenkins, she feels powerless. Unlike Annie, she feels angry. But she's holding it back.
“Bridy, me love,” she says quietly, and the girl turns her tear-streaked face towards her. “I fear I'll be leaving you soon. And hasn't Maura O'Connell agreed to take you with her. Do you promise to mind her?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Faherty strokes her daughter's hair.
“I don't want you to leave!” she cries.
“I know you don't, and I don't want to leave you. But I brought you to America so you could have a good life. Even if I die, you're going to have a good life.”
She hugs Bridy and thinks, Holy Mother, watch over her.
I edited this after posting to make her dialogue sound more similar to the book's dialogue. Even if the book's dialogue is potentially unrealistic stage-Irish, I wanted it to sound in-character. Sometimes one has to choose between canon-accurate and RL-accurate. I also edited the first section some, and that added 42 words. I know that for some people editing decreases word count, but for me it increases.
Lord Kirkle keeps as busy as he can. He attends every meeting of the House of Lords, and unlike some of his peers, he gives his full attention. His sons, he and his wife tell the world, are visiting her parents in the countryside. If only that were the truth.
She's implied to be a little younger than Lord Kirkle, so it's plausible for her parents to still be alive. I imagine that Beatrice is in fact his second wife, and the first marriage had no children. Again, it explains why he's 60 with kids from 16 to 11.
For whenever he is idle, his thoughts turn to Laurence, alone in the hold of the Robert Peel. The boy must survive the journey, he must, and yet he will not be safe on land with no friend and none of the money he took.
If he is found, Lord Kirkle's best hope is that he tells the sailors his full name, that they have the good sense to believe him, and that they return him to England. Or if he makes it to Lowell, Massachusetts, that Albert manages to find him.
I wrote another fic where Laurence is found. He's worrying, but he's being hopeful about it. His anger at Albert has cooled off somewhat as time passed, but he doesn't regret sending him to America.
And what will you do when they have returned? he asks himself. In his mind's eye he sees Albert caning Laurence. How does a man protect his younger son from his elder?
Each night he clasps his hands together and prays, Lord, give me guidance. Until Laurence and Albert return to London it feels like all that he can do.
See, it's about powerlessness in the face of death. He doesn't know Albert won't return with Laurence, which is a loose end in the novel. Maybe there's too much literal praying in this one-shot, but that's what it's about.
I love the Graftons, but I didn't include them here since I don't like the thought of any of them dying. Aside from the baby I made up, all of the deaths or potentially deadly situations are canon.
I first started this fic in 2009. It was inspired by the fanfic100 prompt of either "parents" or "children." I don't remember when I came up with the title, but I love it as a reference both to the patron saint of children and to the book's use of saint names for almost every significant character. I posted it on April 23, 2022.
Jeremiah Jenkins dreams of memories. The boy feeds ducks at the park. He peels an orange on Christmas morning. He sits in a pew alongside his father, balancing a heavy hymn-book on his little knees.
I like that first line. I had to mention that it was specifically Christmas because when the image first came to me I forgot about the cost of oranges. I didn't name the son who doesn't have a name in the book, but I headcanon it as either George or Peter.
Jeremiah Jenkins wakes to a nightmare. The bed across from his lies empty. He breaks bread alone. He walks the Lowell streets in the mornings without a destination, without a companion, without a machine to tend. Children pass by on their way to school, and in their chatter he hears more and more foreign accents each day.
He must do something, he realizes. His boy must be avenged. He enters the silent room and starts the fire. In his mind wood strikes flint, and a plan begins to form.
I wanted to emphasize his loneliness, as a widower with a dead child. This I feel is the least interesting of the six sections since it covers things already known, but I like the images.
Timothy O'Connell dies at night with his mother and siblings right beside him, good-bye and I love you said and said again.
The fact that they get to say good-bye to him was meant to make the fic a little less sad. Originally I had it as day but then I saw that the book said night.
The sun shines on the day of his burial, yet the air is cold. Father Mahoney digs the grave for lack of anyone else available. Annie O'Connell wraps her shawl around her as she and Maura and Patrick say the prayer for the dead.
She wants to cry, to weep like she did when her first babe was stillborn, and Gregory soothed her with hands and words. She finds it impossible. Hunger and grief weigh heavy upon her heart, along with the husband who may have perished at sea. Inside she feels emptiness and dread. Let Patrick and Maura live, she asks. They are all that's left to her.
She's a sympathetic character, but not anywhere near my favorite. It was kind of bad for her to abandon Maura and Patrick even if her motivation makes sense. She's in despair. The dead baby was meant as a way to explain why Maura and Patrick are late in life children, which I think is a flaw in the book. Yes, I added another non-canon dead character to a story about canon dead characters.
“Come in,” Albert says when Lady Kirkle knocks on his door.
Here it goes from pre-canon to during-canon. This was the last of the six concepts that I came up with. The earlier version had Lady Kirkle talking to Lord Kirkle. Browsing the book for this fic, I realized that she never learns on-page what Albert did, so I decided to write about that. Her knocking instead of walking in without knocking was deliberate.
He has nearly finished packing, she sees. “I spoke to your father. He insists on your going to America.”
“Well, I will,” he says, not without petulance.
She looks at her almost-grown second child. A fine-looking young man. He has all that he could desire – except his father's affection. “Did you truly hire a man to take Laurence?”
He cracks his knuckles. “Yes, I did.”
“Albert, how could you?”
“I only want what's mine!”
Like the book, she's more concerned about what Albert did and the potential scandal than Laurence's actual safety. I find her an interesting character, partly because she's a bit enigmatic. I wish she was mentioned more in the book, in fact.
“You upset your father. I don't think it's reasonable for him to send you away, but it is reasonable for him to be angry. Did you realize what a scandal this could create? Didn't you think of your sisters?”
His face falls. “I was thinking of myself.”
Lady Kirkle sighs. “When you return – and you will return – can't you stop fighting with your brother?”
“Perhaps.”
That isn't the answer she wants to hear, but it's the only answer she can expect him to give. “All right. It won't be long now until you're at school, so simply be patient until then.” She kisses his cheek. “I'll pray for you each day. I love you.”
Her brief scene in The Escape from Home gives off the impression that she picks her battles, so that's what she does here. The question of whether or not Albert and Laurence attend school or have tutors is a question that has occupied my mind a lot. Charlotte's dad not wanting her to miss school is the entire reason the plot of The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle happens, so BTWS not mentioning it stands out. I meant for "school" here to mean Oxford/Cambridge.
Nathaniel and the priest walk home as quick as they can. “Ah,” says Mr. O'Connell when they enter the room, sounding pleased even though his voice is weak.
The young man stands there, head bowed, as the priest and Mr. O'Connell say their parts, and he tries not to cry.
I was vague on the Catholic last rites because although I didn't care about the sections being of exactly equal length, I didn't want any to be noticeably longer than the others. I remember deciding to write Gregory's part in Nathaniel's PoV early on. I like to think it works, and this is my favorite part of the six.
“I only wish,” Mr. O'Connell says, “that I could see me family one last time.”
“Yes," says Nathaniel. “But don't you worry. When they arrive in Boston I'll be there to meet them. You have my word.” A thought comes to him all of a sudden. “And if they don't arrive, why, Mr. O'Connell, you'll see them soon.”
Of course, neither of them know Timothy is dead, so according to their own beliefs, Gregory will see him soon. I also wish the book talked about Timothy more. Gregory is a small part, but Patrick and Maura think of him very fondly, and their assumption that he would be fine with adopting Bridy says everything.
A smile appears on his tired face, and he says, “Aye, that I will,” and he dies.
Nathaniel sits down and swallows hard; the priest gives him condolences, and he thanks him.
This is the first story I ever posted where I was purposefully trying to create an emotional response in the reader. Whether I pulled it off I don't know. I wasn't able to get it beta'ed before my self-imposed deadline, and I couldn't change the deadline from St. George/Shakespeare day.
She was angry earlier, and now, having watched her husband die before her, she's even more angry underneath her broken heart.
Nothing will help them now, she thinks bitterly. The Lord in his wisdom sees fit to send sickness and death after famine, and all Mrs. Faherty can do is pray for her husband's soul.
Like Annie but unlike Jenkins, she feels powerless. Unlike Annie, she feels angry. But she's holding it back.
“Bridy, me love,” she says quietly, and the girl turns her tear-streaked face towards her. “I fear I'll be leaving you soon. And hasn't Maura O'Connell agreed to take you with her. Do you promise to mind her?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Faherty strokes her daughter's hair.
“I don't want you to leave!” she cries.
“I know you don't, and I don't want to leave you. But I brought you to America so you could have a good life. Even if I die, you're going to have a good life.”
She hugs Bridy and thinks, Holy Mother, watch over her.
I edited this after posting to make her dialogue sound more similar to the book's dialogue. Even if the book's dialogue is potentially unrealistic stage-Irish, I wanted it to sound in-character. Sometimes one has to choose between canon-accurate and RL-accurate. I also edited the first section some, and that added 42 words. I know that for some people editing decreases word count, but for me it increases.
Lord Kirkle keeps as busy as he can. He attends every meeting of the House of Lords, and unlike some of his peers, he gives his full attention. His sons, he and his wife tell the world, are visiting her parents in the countryside. If only that were the truth.
She's implied to be a little younger than Lord Kirkle, so it's plausible for her parents to still be alive. I imagine that Beatrice is in fact his second wife, and the first marriage had no children. Again, it explains why he's 60 with kids from 16 to 11.
For whenever he is idle, his thoughts turn to Laurence, alone in the hold of the Robert Peel. The boy must survive the journey, he must, and yet he will not be safe on land with no friend and none of the money he took.
If he is found, Lord Kirkle's best hope is that he tells the sailors his full name, that they have the good sense to believe him, and that they return him to England. Or if he makes it to Lowell, Massachusetts, that Albert manages to find him.
I wrote another fic where Laurence is found. He's worrying, but he's being hopeful about it. His anger at Albert has cooled off somewhat as time passed, but he doesn't regret sending him to America.
And what will you do when they have returned? he asks himself. In his mind's eye he sees Albert caning Laurence. How does a man protect his younger son from his elder?
Each night he clasps his hands together and prays, Lord, give me guidance. Until Laurence and Albert return to London it feels like all that he can do.
See, it's about powerlessness in the face of death. He doesn't know Albert won't return with Laurence, which is a loose end in the novel. Maybe there's too much literal praying in this one-shot, but that's what it's about.
I love the Graftons, but I didn't include them here since I don't like the thought of any of them dying. Aside from the baby I made up, all of the deaths or potentially deadly situations are canon.