Category: Category #1

This is a sample category description, which can be used to boost SEO rankings. Make sure you have enabled this from the Edit Category screen in your dashboard.

Burned Books, from the Ashes Comes Shackles

kindred

Burned Books, from the Ashes Comes Shackles in Octavia E. Butler’s “Kindred”

“The Fight”, in Kindred, by Octavia E. Butler, had many little plots and twists, but the thing or things that kept sending up flags was the written word and how it was controlled and used for leverage in the story. First there was the book about slavery that Dana brought back-in-time with her, with dates and routes escaping slaves used, and the map of Maryland it contained. There was also the letter that Dana wrote to Kevin, which Rufus offered to post for her. The knowledge in that book gave Dana confidence and control, albeit small, over her life should she feel the need to escape to the free North.

Due to the seditious content of the book it was dangerous for Dana to have in her possession and should she be caught with it this would not go well for her. Rufus pointed this out to her and insisted she burn the book. When she hesitated, knowing she would be destroying what little tenuous control she had on her life, it made her think of the book burning of Nazi Germany and the fascist control of knowledge that kept the people fettered to the will of the government. Burning her book symbolized not only a loss of freedom for her but also a means of escaping the fetters of slavery.

Dana needed to let Kevin know she was back. The letter, like the book, was a way to freedom from someone, her husband, who would help her for love and without expectation. It was the only way she could contact Kevin and when Rufus threatened not to send her letter unless she burned the book, he was forcing her to give up control and place it in his own hands. Rufus was handing Dana a collar and asking for the key.

The map, torn from the book before committed to flames, was the last shred of written knowledge Dana tried to hold onto—the last scrap of comfort to give her confidence that she may have a chance if she had to leave—but Rufus demanded even that. “He threatened to keep me from my husband if I did not submit to his whim and destroy a paper that might help me get free” (155). It left her no option but to give up the means to get to Kevin and hope that Kevin would get her letter and come rescue her, and she had to entrust the letter to her blackmailer, Rufus.

I took the map from Rufus’s desk and dropped it into the fireplace. It darkened, then burst into flame.

“I can manage without it, you know,” I said quietly.

“No need for you to,” said Rufus. “You’ll be all right here. You’re home.” (156)

Rufus’ last line in that passage is a subtle hint that he had no intention of sending the letter and alerting Kevin that his wife was here so he could take here away. He had effectively made Dana his slave.

Excerpt from the Octagon Key

Here is an excerpt from The Octagon Key:

Imar handed Dalla a shield and motioned her to go first. While they were waiting for Andrew to depart up the hill, Imar put on his mail shirt, but this time he put on a dark brown sleeveless tabard over it with an emblem of a hawk outlined by an octagon embroidered in tan. Next came his helm, followed by his short sword, and then he placed his claymore across his back. He fastened metal grieves to his boots and stood tall in his battle finery. Imar looked good and felt good. The weight of his accruements put him in his battle glory and his adrenaline soared. Dalla led the horses down to the ferry while Imar strode to the side between the inn and her. The weight of his shield felt good on his arm and he drew his sword which felt good in his hand. Dalla sensed his mood and began to move the horses faster, well aware of his rising bloodlust, so common to northern warriors. The ferryman was aboard his vessel untying the lines.

Imar stopped and turned toward the inn.

Dalla said, “Oh no, please don’t.”

Imar shouted at the top of his lungs, “Sigurd! I have your answer! You can kiss my arse and taste my steel!”

The guard on the porch leapt to his feet as did the one at the back of the inn. They were confused, but to their credit, they didn’t just charge to their deaths when they joined each other at the front of the inn. They locked shields and slowly approached this formidable warrior with the wolfish grin on his face and the fire in his eyes. Sounds were coming from the inn and Dalla was tugging on the horses with all her might, loading them onto the barge.

The ferryman helped her. “Is he out of his bloody mind?” he asked as he tugged fiercely on the reins. “I thought the man had some sense about him.”

Dalla kept her mouth shut, but her sarcastic thoughts rolled on. A sword in hand and blood flowing from brain to crotch, a man will do the most foolish things.

Imar charged with his shield out front and his sword held high. The men braced themselves against the impact, but Imar’s momentum could not be stopped. As he broke between them he sliced low to the right under the man’s shield, his blade finding flesh below the chain mail skirt—it cut into the man’s knee. A scream rent the air as he turned and caught a sword from the left on his shield. He faked a low thrust then spun an arc and came over his opponents shield and sunk the point into the man’s neck. Imar roared with battle lust.

 

I hope you enjoyed the appetizer.