The Emperor's Soul

Brandon Sanderson's "The Emperor's Soul" is a neat little story (novella), which hangs together bewitchingly and has a fascinating magic system and excellent worldbuilding (of course). There is an innate appeal in a story where power accretes on those who study and think. Plus, honestly, I like the idea that a convincing author can write a lie which alters the actual past.

The special mechanism of magic in this Sanderson-work is that artisans (of course) can carve a stamp detailing the past history of an item, which, when applied to that item, modifies its actual past history. The tweak is that the effectiveness and durability of the change depends on its subtlety and plausibility. The plot involves an unusually large and powerful stamp, one specific enough to rewrite the eponymous emperor's soul.

If I had invented this little tale, I would have done some backwards contortions to use the idea of authorship modifying history to manipulate the readers themselves. I would certainly have used my favorite authorial hammer, the unreliable narrator. It would probably have leaned more towards an investigation of propaganda than the paean of artistic mastery that it is. Sanderson does much better by maintaining a rather honest storytelling style (with some omissions reserved for later climactic/conclusive revelation). Just like the puissant scholar-magician in his story, Sanderson's most powerful and effective tool is sincerity.

I liked it.


This post's theme word is impresa, "an emblem or device, usually with a motto." The finished, independent work stood on its own merits, with no hidden impresa to brag of its creator.

Versailles

The buildup to Versailles is extreme. The grandest palace, built specifically to overawe the world (and nobles!) with the magnificence of monarchy. The descriptions in Stephenson's The Baroque Cycle --- a work which forms much of my knowledge of world history, 1660 to 1750 --- made it seem the pinnacle of palace architecture.

The approaching walk does not disappoint. On the weekend, everyone in the area is walking to the palace, which contributes to the general feeling of grand power.

Approaching Versailles from the front

The entire front courtyard here --- large enough to encompass many castles of my experience --- was where the carriages would line up to discharge the nobility into this lair of Louis' power.

The front parking lot is large. N.B.: most of the castle is not even visible from here.

The in-home chapel rivals many cathedrals. Here we see the first hint of the overarching decorating schemes (pun intentional): firstly, that heaven descends to earth at Versailles, and secondly, that which can be gilt in gold shall be gilt in gold.

Just a little family chapel.

Serious ceiling fresco.

The gold-and-fresco theme continues in every room. An interesting visual trick is played whereby the 3D corner detailing is blended into trompe-l'oeil 2D painting. I fantasy that this was to spare the expense of having to dust the intricate details of so much plasterwork.

In addition, most of the frescoes are painted with perspective. The point-of-view of we plebian viewers on the ground is taken into account: the soles of feet, bottoms of carriages, etc. are visible as if to continuously remind us how far below the Sun King we stand.

The chandeliers and other fixtures aren't unintimidating, either. More gold! More!

I ran out of time to explore the full gardens (and outlying sub-palaces) behind Versailles proper. Here is one wing --- the queen's, I believe --- taken from a distant enough vantage point that the entire wing could be in-frame.

Our shadows in the evening, rising to meet us.

The visit was fantastic, intimidating, exhausting. Overawing. Even several centuries dead, I am impressed by Louis' power.


This post's theme word is stentorian, "loud and powerful." Versailles makes a stentorian statement about the monarchy; the absence of modern monarchy from France makes a quiet but persistent retort.