02 April 2010

Character Letters.

I'm closing my character letters blog and am just going to do the character letters here from now on since it's far between them. So I'm moving the four I had over there here to this post so I don't lose them. :)

(#1) To Erik, The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. (Was there ever any doubt that my first letter here would be to him? :p)

Dear Erik,

When I first saw you in a movie, I was dumbstruck. It was a musical and I became completely captivated at that glimpse of your story. I then looked to the novel, that wonderfully done story about your tortured life. The book that hooked me forever. And yet then, I saw you come alive again right before my very eyes on a stage, just a few feet away. It was maddeningly hypnotizing. I thought I could not be anymore attached to your character, but I was. I think you will always be one of my favorite characters. And I just wanted to say thank you for being so mysteriously comforting.

- Phantom Inkheart.

(#2) To Kommandant Richwalder, from Pam Jenoff's The Kommandant's Girl.


I don't even know where, or how, to begin telling you how stunned and devastated I was at your actions. I truly felt you loved Emma and would never harm her, even if she was a Jew. I thought, that after all you'd been through previously, that you, of all people, would never do such a thing. I understand the pain you must have felt and the shock of her own deceptions, but, to turn so quickly on the woman you'd let into your life after such tragedy had befallen you, I just cannot understand. But still, I felt so bad when you were killed.
I guess I just had so many hopes for the two of you, and for just you really. While reading your story I wondered at the end, what would really happen? Would you find out about Emma's secrets...? And if you did, what would you do...would you just leave everything and run away with her? Or would you turn her in? I didn't have to wait very long to find my answer because I couldn't stop reading until I knew what would happen. To find that perhaps, your heart was too cold and there was a horrifying darkness in your soul...or maybe, there was just a broken man who was as torn and broken as I felt while reading your book. I don't think I'll ever really understand, I don't even know if I want to.
By writing you this letter I wanted to try to figure it out, but I just can't. So for now, I will say goodbye, and maybe you will hear from me again someday.

- Phantom Inkheart.

(#3) To T., from Lydia Millet's How the Dead Dream.

Dear T.,

I haven't much to say to you right now because I am not done reading about you yet, but, I just had to say, you're just getting strange. I'm not really understanding the road you are taking, or why you are reacting so oddly to things, but my goodness. I can't wait to see what happens to you.

- Phantom Inkheart.

(#4) To Kommandant Richwalder, from Pam Jenoff's The Kommandant's Girl.

Dear Kommandant Richwalder,

I...think I may finally understand the monsters your character was based upon. You see, I had a dream about a week or so ago...it was truly horrifying. I was a little girl, and I was hiding and running with other children from a group of German soldiers. I don't really remember much of the dream now as I haven't even tried to think about it, I do remember a few things about it though.
One thing in particular that was the worst feeling I'd ever had from after waking up from any dream: there was a part in the dream where I ran into a German soldier, and he had this yellow rain coat looking sort of thing in his hand. When he saw me he told me to stop, and I did, because in the entire dream I was feeling very scared and worried. He came up to me and told me to hold the yellow thing up to my face and it positively wreaked of gas. Now, what I was running around in (by myself) looking for a way out when I ran into this man, was a very wet and moldy-scummy looking, cement building, it was like a maze - completely walled in and I could see a glimpse of a cloudy sky. I inhaled into it and immediately I felt like I wanted to throw-up. I cannot even begin to describe how it burned my throat. But that is not where I woke up. I turned and ran the other way yelling out "no" I don't remember the man chasing after me. I don't remember how I got out of that place but what I remember next was that I was in a field with other children who were dirty and just as afraid as I was. I don't care to go into much more detail so I won't. But this part of the dream that I have talked about here, had such an effect on me, because when I woke up, I could taste the bile in my throat. And I finally understood what I had been trying to fathom so hard. Not completely, but enough to at least begin to comprehend the pains and the horrors and the countless heartbreaks that were part of the Holocaust. The last part of the dream was equally horrifying, we were all huddled around a window and there was a man inside doing silly things, sort of like a little show, and I think he was supposed to be hiding, we were all just watching and suddenly there was an explosion, and the building he was in was on fire and falling apart. That is where I woke up.
I am looking on your character now with a little less sympathy, but more wonderment. On what could drive human beings to such measures and extents and horrifying actions on others that are the same as they. That, I think is the only part I think I will really never understand.
That is all I have to say for now, I don't think this is my last letter to you, as you still continue to intrigue me in a strange sort of way.

- Phantom Inkheart.

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