Fedora, as a name, comes from the Russian for Theodora/Theodore (the
hat, from a cross-dresser in a 19th century play).
- Fedora's description is not particularly dissimilar from many of the others in its goal, but, of course, the path that gets us there is unique.
- Brilliant noun of the moment: the Medusa pond. How does the instantaneous image conjured here apply to the infinitude of once-potential-now-impossible Fedoras? (And as yesterday's city reminded me of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, so this one reminds me of Rowling's Mirror of Erised, which, I think, could just as easily been named--or so nicknamed by those less selfless than Harry--the Medusa Pond.)
- The last paragraph, Polo's suggestion (and is it perhaps tongue-in-cheek; or is it sincere?) to the Khan, beggars a question: perhaps, the cities, regardless of their realness, all have a degree, even a significant degree, of unreality. How is the "real" Fedora possibly as imaginary (considering particularly what we've read of other cities) as those in the glass orbs?
If you're not doing this already, see if you can apply the concept behind each city not only to the other cities in the book, but also to your own cities and those others of your personal experience.
2. What do you make of this one? It could be the oppressive heat here today, but I'm just not thinking well.
ReplyDelete3. The "real" Fedora captures the physical reality of humanity, but not its hopes and dreams, so it's incomplete. The little orbs are incomplete as well, but the opposite way.
2. You know, I'm not entirely sure. It's more a sensation really. Something about looking Medusa in the eye and you turn to stone.... But the word "medusa" means guardian, so there might be something to that as well.
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