Saturday, April 30, 2005

Orson Scott Card and the Ender series

In the past month, I have voraciously torn through Orson Scott Card's masterfully written Ender book series. There were four books in the titled Ender Quartet, and four more (with possibly more in the future) in the Shadow series. I have not begun the Shadow series, and though I have high hopes for it, I do not expect it to move like the Ender books did. The Ender Quartet is comprised of the books, Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, and Children of the Mind. These books were amazing, and I just finished the last one two days ago. They filled me with such a great feeling of knowledge and understanding about so many things, and more than anything, those books preach hope.

I already miss having a new story to await me over the horizon, and I know that I will feel that even more after I finish the Shadow series in the next month. Ender's Game is quite well known, but his other books are not as greatly read. However, those who read them, love them. I do not think anyone who has ever read his books does not bear some affection for them. The first novel terrified me in a way and made me feel a great sense of sadness, because in some ways Ender's story of being tricked into xenocide touched something with me. The second novel, Speaker for the Dead, left me amazed and stunned at the end. Of all the books I've read, it was virtually the most meaningful piece of literature I've ever been blessed to see. To be honest, I doubt I'll encounter many books as meaningful as it. Xenocide took major leaps in metaphysical thought, and being the wannabe-metaphysicist that I am, I found it fascinating. Children of the Mind wrapped up the series as best as I could imagine, leaving some things to hope and to the imagination. More than anything, these books taught deep moral lessons, amazing concepts about ethics and about life, and showed how even the worst sins can come from the best people. Most importantly, it teaches you that there must be some good in everybody, and that if you are truly good, you can love everyone despite their sins.

Upon completion of the Ender Quartet, I felt a sadness for a couple of reasons. For one, I was sad that I had finished what had quickly become some of my favorite books. The main reason I was sad is because I realized what I wanted to be as an author, and suddenly gained a great fear that I will never succeed in my greatest ambition as a writer. Though I couldn't know now if I wanted too, because only time will tell. Still, I realized that I wanted to write something that would have as great an effect on others as his books had on me. Though that's such a lofty ambition (to have that much of an impact in life), it is still one I am compelled to aspire too. His books revolutionized the way I perceived certain things in my books, and made me create a number of new dimensions to it. I added the neural realm as a venue for the more important characters (all of which have some kind of telepathic status) to grow and exhibit more about themselves than I ever thought possible. I added multiple layers to Juris' relationships with other major characters, like Tirya and Ek'Litaso. Ultimately, I developed a clearer image of what I wanted my main characters to be when all was said and done. I wanted to move them beyond the archetypes with which I built them around, and make them something all on their own. I wanted my characters to exude the qualities I wished I had, and to do for their own fictitious world what I wish I could do for my own. When I realized this, I was scared, because such a thing seems so far beyond my abilities. That won't stop me from trying, however, because to quit now would be the ultimate sin against my ambition and potential. I will try to make my books great because I want to, and because it seems worth it to risk such a thing.

I would like to close with one of the better quotes from Ender's Game.
"I think it's impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves."
I think this is why love can hurt so much, because when you come to understand someone so greatly, even though you know their faults, you still love them. And these faults often contradict our values, making it more painful. In the end, to love someone so much that you can look beyond their faults is often loving someone more than you can love yourself. At this, I say good night.

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