When was the last time you rewatched the original Iron Man? What about the first Avenger’s film? Did you even bother buying a second ticket to Marvel’s first major movie starring a superhero of color, 2008’s groundbreaking The Incredible Hulk? Let’s be honest, unless you’re a child and easily distracted by bright colors and loud noises, the answer is probably ‘no’.
Let me describe the reader for whom I wrote all these stories. I wrote them for you. Not for some professor or for myself, and certainly not for the various editors who bought them... You see, I am not an academic writing to be criticized (Academics think the criticism the most important part of the whole proccess, in which they are wholly wrong.) Nor am I one of those self-indulgant people who write in order to admire their own cleverness at a later date; I do, occasionally, admire myself; but I am always made sorry for it afterward... This is the simple truth: Tonight you and I, with billions of others, are sitting around the fire we call “the sun,” telling stories, and from time to time it has been my turn to entertain.”
As we know, there is no actual equality in the natural world, nor in any sphere of civic life. The liberal notion of equality is simply a word of man, a fiat just the same as the notion of liberty, which means that either one can be canceled out by another fiat.
With Sanction, Roman McClay has indeed written the “NRx/RP” novel of our time, without, I suspect, even trying… Sanction is truly a great book, physically heavy, and heavy with ideas and dense, amazing language.
…first-generation aliens are allowed to write our laws, siphon off and re-distribute our wealth, and openly claim that the land our ancestors paid for in cash and blood is actually the spiritual property of some contrived idea of an indigenous people. When was any of this voted for?
On the edge of the earth, the sun slowly diminished. An unexpected calmness dropped in the atmosphere. In one short life, this drama would end. And that would be the end of it all; those, who suffered the worst, were the ones most deluded by the notion that this life was forever. Oh, how calm? How peacefully the River Murma flowed today?
From fathomless, endlessly dark and bottomless caverns Where the fevered sigh of rebirth and creation issues forth hope yet despair Rushed forth, as a thousand daggers, unite, into the gradual formation of baying and howling gales Echoing, reverberating, lashing, whipping into formless, breathless winds That envelop the cold pale shivering tender flesh of a ghoul forlorn to Time lost, removed from eternity and without course that follows no star