Brian Jacques Day Toasting

[DanielofRedwall]

Friends,

On this day in history, our beloved Brian Jacques passed away. This topic is designed for us all to pay our respects to his legacy and what his stories mean to us all.

I will start.

To Brian, a person who shaped my childhood like no other, and by extension my life. He brought my imagination to life and made me fall in love with reading. Even nine years on from his passing, his legacy has lived on, and the community he created is thriving, a testament to his brilliance.

Who is next?

[shisteer of nothing much]

I'm next.

In gratitude to Brian Jacques
We gather here to celebrate
The treasured wonderings; the arts,
From one who changed our meager fate.

Let's share the joy and never cease
To wear this treasure as a thong
And pass it as ourselves decease
So that his work may carry on.

That author, though he's here no more,
Can make a difference, none the less.
In turn we too can dig and shore
And, following his model, bless.

[Kade Rivok]

Hmmm....

In honor of Mr. Jacques, I'll post a short story I did years ago that is about him and Redwall and how it influenced me (though his name isn't mentioned in it)

Thoughts, Stories, Worlds

     The boy could hear them, words being spoken to him.  They told him of many things, many places, many lives.  Whole universes spun in his head, brought forth by these words that sprung from the ether.  His world was originally blank, a white emptiness where his thoughts could take hold and change everything, though he was not aware of this.  As more tales were brought forth, the void around him started to take shape as it matched the words he heard.  Enthralled in this wonder, the boy ran through his ever changing world, exploring each new setting and taking joy in everything he found.

     Eventually the boy realized that it was not the words that had been changing his world, but himself.  As more and more words came to him, telling him new things, he started combining what he had heard before with what he was hearing now.  Once again the world was changing, but this time it was different.  This time he found that he could control what was there and what wasn't.  The possibilities were endless!  He could mix and combine and create whatever he wanted.  The words now gave him new ideas to add to this world and he took joy in his ever-changing creation.

     One day the boy came across a door.  This was not that uncommon, mind you, but he could tell there was something different about this one.  He didn't know what lay beyond.  It was an area he had no control over and no knowledge of.  Rather than being scared, however, the boy was actually excited!  What sort of interesting things would he see there?  What sort of new thoughts would he be able to bring back into his world?  He energetically opened the door and stepped through.

     A beautiful summer day spread out before him as the door closed behind his back.  He appeared to be in a forest of some sort.  A cool breeze blew across his face and the leaves rustled softly in the wind.  That was new, his world had never had such a level of detail.   Suddenly the boy noticed that the words he had heard for so long had stopped.  He looked around frantically, pointlessly.  He had never been able to see them in the first place.  He did notice, however, that the door still lay behind him, so he knew he would be able to leave whenever he wanted.  With his confidence regained, he stepped forth and started exploring.

     This place was beyond anything he had ever seen before.  It was only a forest, of course, but his world had never had such a deep sense of meaning and care as this.  He could tell that whoever had created this world cared deeply about it and put much time and effort into making it perfect.  Then it hit him, this was a world that somebody else had made!  Of course, that had to be it!  Somehow he had stumbled upon the entrance to another person's world and could now explore it.  He couldn't change anything here, but then again he didn't want to either.  This place was so far beyond anything the boy could have dreamed of that it would be an atrocity to try and remake it.

     As these thoughts ran through his head, the boy stumbled up a huge, red wall.  He looked up in amazement and saw what seemed to be a large, human-sized otter patrolling the battlements.  He walked on two legs, carried a spear, and was wearing a helmet and a tunic.  Was he a guard of some sort?  On that note, what was this place, a castle maybe?  The boy wasn't sure.  He followed the wall around, hoping to find an entrance.  After walking for a little while and passing a locked door, he stumbled across huge open, oaken gates.  They had such an friendly, inviting feeling about them that the boy knew that he had to see where they lead.  He cautiously peered inside, wondering what he would find, and gasped.  He could see a gigantic, red building that seemed to call out to all the forest that it was a place of safety and rest.  There was a bell tower, a sizable pond and a garden that looked big enough to feed an entire town.

     All of a sudden, the boy heard the bells start ringing.  Their peals were loud, powerful, and full of meaning.  The doors to the building burst open and human sized woodland creatures came spilling out.  Most of them were mice, but there were also many hedgehogs, otters, and squirrels among the group.  They all seemed to be so happy and so full of life that the boy had a hard time believing that there was somebody able to make something so... amazing.  He was then startled as he felt a hand on his shoulder.  The boy jerked his head to see who it was and there he saw a man.  He was older but had a wonderfully kind, warm look on his face.  The boy looked up into his face and asked.

     "Who are you?"

     The man smiled down at him, "I am the Teller of Tales and this is the world I have made, the story I have created."  He then walked through the gates, turned, and held his arms wide apart as if welcoming the boy.  "These gates are always open to those goodbeasts who seek shelter, safety, and friendship.  Would you like to come in?  I have many things to show you."

     The boy nodded enthusiastically and ran forward, following the man inside.  There, he started his first real journey.  The man took him through his world and presented to the boy everything he had created.  From the fiery mountain where the badger lords ruled to an abandoned abbey, forgotten by time, they traveled through time and space.  The man was not a teacher, but even so, through his stories, the boy discovered ways to live life and ways to cope with it.  Ways to create a meaningful world and ways to fill it.  Through the Teller's world the boy lived many lives and experienced many things.  He came across heroes and villains and saw how they lived.  He experienced joy and sorrow and discerned their true meaning.  He discovered the beginnings of life and the cloud of death and learned to cry for both.  Friends were gained and friends were lost and even many years later, when looking back on his journey, the boy would feel pangs of sorrow in his heart when these lost friends came to mind.

     In too short a time, though, their journey was over, but the boy was not ready to leave.  He went back and relived the man's stories over and over, reveling in the joy he felt with each retelling.  The man was always with him, smiling warmly and showing him new things that he missed the time before.  He never seemed to get bored of showing the boy around and every once in awhile the man would have a new story for him to explore.  The years the boy spent travelling through this world were possibly the best of his life.

     Eventually the boy had a thought; what if he went back to his own world and made something similar to this one?  Not only would it be closely related to the world he had come to love, he'd be able to make it in any way he wanted!  With this idea in mind, he bid the man farewell, promising to return.  Deep in the forest the boy found the door, covered in vines from the years that had passed.  After a few minutes of work he was finally able to open it and step through.

     He was back in his own world now, a world that was white and empty.  A void that needed filling.  The boy looked around and smirked, this was going to be fun.  As he willed it, a forest sprang up around him that was quite similar to the one he had spent so long in.  A huge smile burst across his face, it seemed that he'd be able to do this after all!  First he needed a setting, he started creating a map of the world.  A cave here, a fortress there, the land began to change shape as the boy decided what he wanted and where he wanted it.  Next was the inhabitants, for what kind of world has no characters?  He created many, but wanted to make one that was special.  He wanted one to be his friend.  This one would be a mouse, for mice where always the heroes in the end.  As for a name, Dantin would do.  The boy smiled as the mouse appeared before him. 

     Finally, his world was finished.  He looked around and smiled, but the smile quickly vanished.  Everything looked wonderful, but something was off.  Something that the boy just couldn't put his finger on.  It all just didn't seem quite as real as what he was used to, it wasn't full of life.  This world, the boy realized, was just a cheap imitation of one far greater.  There was no depth here, no deep feelings held in every leaf on every tree.  It was all something that he'd just thrown together for the fun of it.  This was a hollow world that easily shattered before him.  As the ruins of his broken landscape vanished, the boy closed his eyes, not in sadness nor grief, but in acceptance.  Of course, how could a world like this possibly last?  It was simply an imitation of something else, not a story that he had created himself, full of love and care.

     He sat down and lay on his back, trying to decide what to do next.  He could always go back through the door and ask the man what he should do, but the boy decided against that.  The Teller of Tales had given him many ideas and taught him many things, but this was something he had to figure out for himself.  He had at his fingertips everything he needed to make a truly beautiful world; the man had already given him this.  Now he just needed to have the courage to continue on his own.

     He looked around at the meadow he was now laying in.  There was a lake nearby and he could see ice-capped mountains off in the distance that sprung up into the clouds.  Smiling, the boy closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the sun upon his face.  This was only the beginning.

[close]

I'll post this in my writing thread as well, so if you feel the need\desire to comment, just do so there 

Anywho, a toast for Brian Jacques!  My life would be somewhere different if he had never written those books.

[Booklover]

I can't remember exactly when I first read Redwall, but I do know that almost immediately it became one of my favourite series of all time, and remains so today, a few years later, and is likely to still be in a few years', or more, time. It has certainly inspired me in multiple ways, and recently, so has this forum.

So, a toast to Redwall Abbey, and especially to the creator, Brian Jacques!

[Sebias of Redwall]

My life would have been different if I had never picked up Brian Jacques' books. That decision has effected many things in my life. I'm so glad that he wrote them and shared his talents with the rest of the world.

A toast to Brian Jacques!

[Verdauga]

The Redwall series was a staple of mine for years, and I think it's fun nature and simple theme is one of it's best qualities. Rest in Peace, sir. Few like you have come before, and few will come after.

[MathLuk]

Though late I might be, there is no such thing as too late in the realm of memories.

A toast to Mr. Jacques, good parent, brilliant author and worldcrafter, and friend to all. May he be thought well for all generations to come.

[One-Eye the wildcat]

*raises glass*

To Brian Jacques.

[Cornflower MM]

Without Redwall, I would never have met my people. I would not be the person I am today if I hadn't given Mossflower a chance. Every day I look at some of you and am thankful I've gotten to know you lovely souls. And to those of you who I don't know as well yet, know that you make me laugh and I'm eager to know you.

So - To Brian Jacques. A wonderful, kind, man, who made a whole awe inspiring world with an amazing little community built around it. May he always rest in peace.

[Kreg]

Without Mr. Jacques, This awesome community and these awesome people would not be here, I Could go on but others need to get in a toast.
......To Brian Jacques.

[Tungro]

Truly a great author!