Shakespeare

Sonnet #138

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:

Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

Wielding A Probing Metaphor

Among today's random impulses for websurfing, I've been casually reading the wikipedia plot summaries for Piers Anthony's Incarnations of Immortality series.

It's really quite troubling to read these summaries. I loved the 1st half of that series as a kid, and the bare bones of the plot make them sound incredibly 2-dimensional and West-centric.

Especially Wielding a Red Sword, where the main character is supposedly Indian, but the author clearly lacked any actual research or insight into the culture. The main character's name isn't even Asian, fer crying out loud.

I didn't notice such things as a child, of course. Just like I didn't notice how radically unusual it must have been for the main character, the first Indian character I'd ever read that was written by a Westerner, happened to be in love with two women at the same time through nearly half the book.

No, I didn't notice these things. But surely, they must have had an effect on me.