It's a little - I'm not quite sure how to phrase this, so bear with me. It's as though the affection felt for Stephen is at first a little - two-dimensional. Because I have my own affection for him - as a character, as a well-written parody, and whose pratfalls make me laugh and whose successes...also make me laugh. I am aware of those aspirations of his as fake (in the sense that they do not belong to a person named Stephen and not in the sense that they don't exist - if they didn't exist, the satire wouldn't work). Even though I'm also aware of this being "Stephen" rather than Stephen - I'm aware of the delineation between the two, but -
It's like viewing "Stephen" through a filter, at first. When I say my affection for him is two-fold, I mean I have my affection for the character, that I filter through reality/knowledge of satire/appreciation of good writing/sense of humour. And then I view "Stephen" through Jon's eyes, which is where we get this sense that he can be - needy isn't quite the word I'm looking for, nor is helpless. Needful, maybe. He needs other people, relies on them, enmeshes himself in the web of humanity - humanises himself. The affection I have for him is not the same as Jon's affection, but it springs from it - and it's much on the same level that I get when petting a kitten, or the reaction most people have to babies (I can't stand them, btw); it's a dependency thing. It's not quite the same - like I said, I can't see "Stephen" as helpless - it's the compassion you have for someone who's fallen down and can't get up.
Viewing Jon through "Stephen"'s eyes we get to see that he needs people, and not just in the sense that he needs Bobby or Tad or any of the crew - it's - oh, it's not that he needs so much as he wants people. Not in a sexual way. (We'll get to that later.) I used the word enmesh up in the previous paragraph; here we get a "Stephen" who wants to enmesh himself in this web of society, of humanity. It's not so much that being in love humanises him - Jon's view of him does that, for me - but that seeing humanity from his perspective shows us he is capable of the best in humanity: compassion.
Yes. I think that's it. For all his faults, and they are many, "Stephen" is capable of compassion. And you set it up here against flashes of him being hopelessly inconsiderate - poor Jon - but because the wounded party doesn't seem all that wounded (and thank you for that; I have the feeling your follow-up is going to hurt in ways this one doesn't), the overwhelming piece of knowledge I take from this, that I didn't have before, is that Stephen is capable of compassion.
Jon, bless him, fell for it without a moment of doubt. It's the little 'bless him' which seals the deal. Shows genuine affection instead of just gratitude, which is also present in the 'perfect excuse' bit which follows; Stephen's smirk over the kiss is both hilarious in his thinking that Jon doesn't get it (and how much do I love that he actually doesn't? YAY for Lewis, but that is for another chapter, far from here) and that it was a smart thing to do. He feels great that he got to kiss Jon but also that he outwitted Jon - "Dear, gullible Jon" makes that pretty clear - and whilst the affection comes through clearly here, there's also that sense of having outwitted someone quite literally bracketing the sentiment:
Stephen smirked. Dear gullible Jon.
'smirked' and 'gullible' bookend the endearment he uses. In the line, Jon, bless him, fell for it without a moment of doubt, the 'bless him' is brought out as a minor clause - the commas act almost as parentheses and sets the tone of underlying affection for the rest of the chapter. It's what makes "Stephen" so easily 'bearable' - his affection, his compassion - and I'm left with the suspicion that Jon knew about it before I did.
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It's like viewing "Stephen" through a filter, at first. When I say my affection for him is two-fold, I mean I have my affection for the character, that I filter through reality/knowledge of satire/appreciation of good writing/sense of humour. And then I view "Stephen" through Jon's eyes, which is where we get this sense that he can be - needy isn't quite the word I'm looking for, nor is helpless. Needful, maybe. He needs other people, relies on them, enmeshes himself in the web of humanity - humanises himself. The affection I have for him is not the same as Jon's affection, but it springs from it - and it's much on the same level that I get when petting a kitten, or the reaction most people have to babies (I can't stand them, btw); it's a dependency thing. It's not quite the same - like I said, I can't see "Stephen" as helpless - it's the compassion you have for someone who's fallen down and can't get up.
Viewing Jon through "Stephen"'s eyes we get to see that he needs people, and not just in the sense that he needs Bobby or Tad or any of the crew - it's - oh, it's not that he needs so much as he wants people. Not in a sexual way. (We'll get to that later.) I used the word enmesh up in the previous paragraph; here we get a "Stephen" who wants to enmesh himself in this web of society, of humanity. It's not so much that being in love humanises him - Jon's view of him does that, for me - but that seeing humanity from his perspective shows us he is capable of the best in humanity: compassion.
Yes. I think that's it. For all his faults, and they are many, "Stephen" is capable of compassion. And you set it up here against flashes of him being hopelessly inconsiderate - poor Jon - but because the wounded party doesn't seem all that wounded (and thank you for that; I have the feeling your follow-up is going to hurt in ways this one doesn't), the overwhelming piece of knowledge I take from this, that I didn't have before, is that Stephen is capable of compassion.
Jon, bless him, fell for it without a moment of doubt.
It's the little 'bless him' which seals the deal. Shows genuine affection instead of just gratitude, which is also present in the 'perfect excuse' bit which follows; Stephen's smirk over the kiss is both hilarious in his thinking that Jon doesn't get it (and how much do I love that he actually doesn't? YAY for Lewis, but that is for another chapter, far from here) and that it was a smart thing to do. He feels great that he got to kiss Jon but also that he outwitted Jon - "Dear, gullible Jon" makes that pretty clear - and whilst the affection comes through clearly here, there's also that sense of having outwitted someone quite literally bracketing the sentiment:
Stephen smirked. Dear gullible Jon.
'smirked' and 'gullible' bookend the endearment he uses. In the line, Jon, bless him, fell for it without a moment of doubt, the 'bless him' is brought out as a minor clause - the commas act almost as parentheses and sets the tone of underlying affection for the rest of the chapter. It's what makes "Stephen" so easily 'bearable' - his affection, his compassion - and I'm left with the suspicion that Jon knew about it before I did.