The Diver

Fanfiction
Title:	The Diver
Author(s):	Carolyn Spencer
Date(s):	print zine-(06/1995);The K/S Archive- (08/2010)
Length:	print zine-25 pages; The K/S Archive-10,164 words
Genre(s):	slash
Fandom(s):	Star Trek: TOS
Relationship(s):	Kirk/Spock
External Links:	on AO3
Click here for related articles on Fanlore.

The Diver is a K/S story by Carolyn Spencer. It won a 1995 STIFfie Award.

It was published in the print zine First Time #42 where it had art by Chris Soto.

Chris Soto for "The Diver," a glorious long-haired Spock -- "Oh! Long, lean, graceful, strong, naked long-haired Spock. No bangs—beautiful forehead; teasing hint of penis. Gorgeous light and shadow. Exquisite."

"A simply beautiful rendition of an unclothed warrior Spock, complete with long hair and spear. Took my breath away, expert use of light and dark. I particularly like how the leather thongs on the spear echo the gentle curves of Spock's hair, I can almost feel the wind."

title page

Summary

From the publisher: “Visions that Spock had while at Gol are discovered to be shared when he rejoins Kirk to defeat VʼGer.”

Reactions and Reviews

1995

Darkly poetic and intensely visual, this Carolyn Spencer story begins with a breathtaking image of Spock as a lonely figure on a cliff, contemplating his dive to the water below. This scene and the other dreams or visions are as visually stunning as a wide-screen film, yet retain the intimacy of a poem. The language painted such a clear picture in my mind and swept me up in the feelings. Not only does this dream/meditation powerfully express beauty, but it effectively sets up what's coming.

It turns out that Spock is at Gol, preparing himself for a ceremony out in the desert wilderness. This ritual is so perfectly Vulcan in its attempt to rid the bearer of emotion. But it's also barbaric and savage, something we've definitely seen in Vulcans before. Their dark side—their ancient warrior traditions all wrapped up in their modern Vulcan logic. What an extraordinary invention. But definitely not for the squeamish or faint-of-heart. I have never considered myself a candidate for either category, but when Spock applied that knife, I flinched.

Such a unique story structure with sudden breaks of past events to dream image to past event to present.

Smooth transitions like a heart beat becoming a door buzzer worked very well. Abrupt ones worked equally well, but I just needed more as to what these dreams really were and why or how Kirk and Spock shared them. It was a touch confusing in parts. But...this is the definitive portrait of Spock at Gol. I don't think I have ever read a more skillfully defined, utterly beautiful portrayal of this time of Spock's life. That, and how it was so seamlessly woven into the actual dialogue and picture of the film. Even though I knew he would, when Spock finally returns to the Enterprise and to Kirk, I let go of my held breath. Image after image, word after word flows so beautifully and is so damn gorgeous.

I'm sorry if I give anything away to anyone, but I can't help myself: When Kirk says “You're not leaving,” and Spock says, “no”, and then Kirk says “Good. Because I love you”. I started crying. We're not talking just misty-eyed stuff, here. I mean, real tears. As in sobbing. Hormonal? Moi?

First person present tense Spock, in meditation at Gol; his vision of the diver has been haunting him. Spock, spawned from the Vulcan sands, about to dive into Terran ocean—the cool and alluring Kirk. A clear and yet rich metaphor, and strong enough to carry a whole story. There was one place where I didn't really get it, but otherwise I understood it, Spock's inner landscape. A particular moment I loved at the beginning was Spock's feeling he would hover a moment in balance between life and death. The passage I didn't really understand was when he finally does (figuratively) dive into the loving sea of ecstasy but then it turns black and heaves him to his destruction. Why so?

A very atmospheric story, and so insightful as to Spock and his rituals of meditation, psychic cleansing. I loved the Stripping: out naked in the desert, saying farewell to all his emotional attachments. Short passages of feelings about each crew person, various women he has known, his friends, his parents. With each one he cuts a finger and lets the blood drip, as he releases each one. Of course, he saves Jim for last. And of course, this is the one attachment he cannot easily let go of. This is excruciatingly tragic, that for days he is bleeding himself to death (and orgasms too) to rid himself of attachment to Kirk...and fails.

A beautiful meditation/flashback—unbearable moments that made me cry: Kirk comes to Spock in pon farr, insisting on helping. Kirk is gorgeous here: quiet and gentle yet totally in control of the situation. Spock thinks: "This is the only first time we will ever have." (Sob.) Spock has to have him, takes him without even remembering the moment of their first joining. (Sob, sob.) Gorgeously intense and poetic, inside Spock's head in the fires of pon farr, reaching for Kirk's mind.

2.75 years later, now he (thinks he) has attained mastery. So now we are up to the moment we know from the movie when, on the sands, he senses V'ger anal Kirk. Then, after Spock's meld with Vger, the way Carolyn re-writes these moments in Sickbay are 5fl moving. Each little moment, like when Spock laughs and Kirk is drawn to the sound. And, the explanation of "I should have known."

Then, post-movie. Again, so vivid! I was left breathless when Spock tells Kirk he is not leaving.

This is when we learn they are bonded, and both have been seeing the diver vision. This was not clear to me earlier, that Kirk had any awareness of this vision.

There is a special kind of innocence in the sex scene.

I liked all the meditations and flashbacks each done in a different type. A haunting, beautiful story.

A hauntingly beautiful story of Spock's time at Gol. This is a poignant, tormented Spock trying desperately to rid himself of the last vestiges of his humanity. He undergoes the ka'ama, a ceremony to exercise all memory of family and friends. Tears welled up in my eyes as he named all who had meant anything to him and cast them out of his life and his thoughts. His memories of McCoy were especially touching and perceptive and hard to let go of, but eventually he did. And then there was Jim...you really got to me here.

Spock almost bleeds to death trying to cut Kirk out of his mind and heart and of course in the end he fails. Woven throughout is a recurring vision Spock has of himself as a diver, standing on a cliff, watching the sea. The meaning of the vision if finally explained at the end, but you're going to have to read the story to find out what if is.

This is the dark, near-breaking journey of a tortured soul trying to find peace. Each poetic work and turn of phrase if perfection. Carolyn, I ency. you your gift with language.

Lest anyone should fear an unhappy ending...remember..this is a Merry Men Press publication. Enjoy, this is a rare one

I am almost afraid to review this story. I fear that whatever I have to say about it will be inadequate. I fear that my words will not do justice to the author's words. Usually when I review a story for Come Together, I re-read it and take notes. Sometimes just a few, sometimes I have pages of them. I sat down to do the same with The Diver, pen in hand. But I couldn't. Even though this was the third time I'd read this story, I was totally caught up in its style, its mystery. The pen dropped. I picked up the zine and just read for the sheer pleasure of the reading. My body tingled as I went on. When I finished, I was almost shivering. And this was the third time I'd read it!

Not everyone, I am sure, will like The Diver. It is quite different from the typical K/S story. And for me, that is one of its charms. Carolyn Spencer has tried for something different here, a story told totally from Spock's perspective, in first person present tense, but moving among a vision he has during meditation, to a fearful dream/image that blossomed in his soul, to his waking time experience first at Gol, and later on the Enterprise. This is a story that could only be told by a poet-author, by someone very much in command of her material and the tools she uses to convey her meaning. A few exquisite moments. When Spock is engaging in the ka'ama, he abandons the emotions associated with his shipmates, one by one. I loved the insightful way he thought of Chekov, Sulu, Scotty. What he thought about McCoy. Beautifully written, and each small paragraph had me totally convinced that this was indeed the way Spock thought of the crew.

I do not want to spoil this exquisite story for anyone else, so I can't really tell you the other spine-tingling moments, but when T'Sai comes upon Spock in the desert a few pages later, and the reader understands what has been happening... well, you're made of stone if your heart doesn't constrict.

The image of the thick green liquid used to protect human skin from the Vulcan suns is fantastic. Spock associates it with Amanda, with the Outworlder, as well as with all that he has been denied for so long. It's heart-breakingly real, the thoughts of a real, tortured, mature being.

I could go on for a long time talking about images and the poetic, almost-hypnotic spell that the author cast upon me, the reader. This is a truly wonderful piece of writing. It touched my heart, it stirred my imagination, it grabbed me and pulled me right down into the world created by the author.

There were a few blips in the story, a very few. At the top of page 59, a new section starts where it appears that the author has abandoned the present tense and slipped into past. It isn't until the very bottom of the page that it becomes clear that this section was actually written as a flashback as Spock attempts to meditate, but it really threw me off. I read through this section a third time, substituting present tense for most of the past tense verbs, and it worked perfectly well. I don't really understand why the author made the confusing switch for just this part.

I feel as if the author cheated when she wrote on page 55 that "My second Ka'ama was completed successfully and without incident." Why? After seventeen pages of telling us the trauma leading up to and during the first Ka'ama, to say that there was no incident for the second leaves a huge gap that just cries to be filled. This is such an abrupt transition. I understand the author's desire to get on with the story, but the reader deserved to hear something more here.

And finally, although the image of the green emollient was skillfully employed throughout, the way Spock uses it in the very last scene struck me as being overkill. Overly dramatic. One drop, rubbed first on himself, maybe on one of his fingers, as if to cure the scars left there by the Ka'ama, and then that moistened finger extended to share with Kirk, would have done the job for me much better. But these are very minor quibbles for a story that I found to be exceptional in every way. If a reader of Come Together for some unknown reason has not yet purchased First Time 42, quick, write to Robin and order one right away. This story is definitely worth reading. An exceptional story by an exceptional writer.

Again a beautiful story by a very talented writer. Carolyn's command of words is as perfect as Kirk's command of his beloved silver lady. There is no sentence unnecessary, everything is fluent like poetry.

Wonderfully described Spock's stay at Gol. In fact the most vivid portrayal of this difficult time of asceticism I remember. I love the 'images he has in the desert. Each characterization is absolutely to the point (but would he really call then by their first name? Kirk - yes, McCoy-perhaps, but the others-no, Spock wouldn't, even in this situation, think of Sulu as Hikaru or Chekov as Pavel.)

The Pon Farr scene is great; first I thought Spock was remembering his appalling time and I was surprised then, that he had envisioned one of his greatest fears. I love it, when an author leads his readers one way and surprises them with another solution.

My favorite scene is the confrontation in the end. Kirk talks and talks and wants Spock to stay and Spock simply says, "I am not leaving" and Kirk doesn't stop till finally the penny has dropped. "Because I...You're not leaving?" I actually can see Kirk standing there agape!

Also the look (compliment to Robin!) Of the story is very special: three different prints to emphasize the parts of the plot, Spock's drops of blood, a breath taking long haired Spock by Chris Soto and a lovely poem by Robin Hood make this an unique reading experience.

This flawlessly constructed short story is a perfect marriage (OK, bonding) of form and substance. Other than stand speechless in awe and wonder, there's little I can say that will do justice to it. So I will list just a few of its accomplishments.

First is the superb use of the symbolism of earth and sea. That symbolism is far more than merely formal; it adds substantive meaning to the story. It is used to express the duality of Kirk and Spock. the dramatic tension of their relationship, the bond that pulls them to each other against all the weight of Spock's Vulcan heritage. To be effective, a symbol should tightly compress ideas, passion and meaning. The symbolism here does just that. Consider, for example, a passage that shows Spock experiencing his own connection to Vulcan as weight, as sheer physical gravity: "the diver sees himself sinking down as the sand climbs, down through the rock, down to the heart of the world which had spawned him."

Second is the way the story engages all the reader's senses-again, not merely for stimulation but to create meaning and substance. Sight, hearing, touch, even taste and smell are engaged. As a result, each scene is perfectly realized. We can see, hear and feel every detail down to the sharp rocks, the stone carafe, the acid sensation of unwanted food in the stomach. The physical sensations thus evoked also advance and add substance to the larger theme and meaning of the story-an example is the use of the scent of an herbal lotion used as a skin protector by outworlders on Vulcan to evoke Spock's complex and ambivalent feelings about his home, his mother and his Human heritage.

Third is the successful use of pain, force and savage emotion to heighten a scene's dramatic impact. Too often fan fiction stoops to the gratuitous use of violence—but not in this story. Parts of it are painful to read, but in each case the pain is integral, even essential, to the substance and meaning of the story.

Finally, and perhaps the most impressive achievement, is the construction of a non-linear narrative to capture the depth and intensity of the bond between Kirk and Spock. As fan writers know all too well, it is extremely difficult to express the essence of the K/S relationship in linear narrative. This story breaks up the narrative, creating a chamber-like structure within which the truth of Kirk and Spock's profound connection is revealed.

Each of these four characteristics of the story is a literary accomplishment; none was realized without some risk. That is inherent in any effort to go beyond the tried and true, in this case the traditional linear and descriptive narrative of most fan fiction. I'm glad the author chose to explore alternative structures and to make use of the power of symbolic language. In this story, that choice succeeds brilliantly.

1998

Interesting the way the memory, the dream and the reality were fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The differing type styles made it workable and a bit more intriguing as each seemed to suit the part of the story being portrayed.

Although I rarely like Gol stories (in my universe Gol never happened, canon be damned!), this one is incredibly powerful, thanks to its satisfying plot and, even more, to Carolyn's beautiful prose style and skillful use of point of view.

It begins in third person with the vision that has been unfolding every night to Spock in his 11.4 months at Gol; a lone diver, now at the top of a precipice, prepares to plunge into the sea. The entire passage is so gorgeous, so sensuous:

“Never had he desired anything more. To join with the sea, to feel its coolness encase his fevered body, to sink down into its green, life-giving depths. To be free of the land which imprisoned him, to spread his arms and soar and be held for one breathless moment motionless against the sky, held in perfect balance for the first time in his life.”

Desert/sea, Vulcan/human --the pain of trying to balance these seeming dichotomies brought Spock to Gol. For now, the diver remains standing.

These descriptions alternate with Spock’s first person, present tense narrative, a point of view very difficult to write convincingly. Carolyn uses it perfectly to emphasize Spock’s isolation and also to reveal how perceptive he is and, in some ways (we’ll later realize), how blind. Spock reflects on the vision, self- deprecatingly aware of its symbolism:

“One does not need to be well trained in the paths of logic to discern the meaning of the vision. I am the diver and he, of course, the sea.”

On this day he will perform the ka’ama, the Stripping, the initiate’s farewell to emotion and to the life he will leave behind. Throughout the story, Carolyn’s Vulcan details are totally convincing. The Masters have left Spock two items, the ritualistic knife and a bottle of sunscreen oil, the latter a shameful concession to his human half. Spock takes the knife and rejects the oil:

“In any contest between Vulcan strength and Human love could there be any doubts as to the victor?”

Fortunately, the answer here is not the one Spock will reach by the story’s end.

In one of the most powerful scenes I’ve ever read, alone in the desert Spock slowly performs the “ceremonial” ritual, drawing the knife across his ten fingers, one by one; one by one, until the bleeding stops, he bids farewell to people he has cared for and honors their former place in his life. Spock’s impassive narrative contrasts shockingly with this mutilation -- of his body and his soul. The second to last slash, across his right palm for McCoy, is deeper and bleeds longer. We know who will come last, he who has always been first in Spock’s heart. But Carolyn suddenly shifts to another narrative: in past tense, Spock relates a pon farr scene in which Kirk offered his body willingly, but Spock took both his body and his mind, bonding them in an act that both can only view as rape. When next we see the diver, he completes his dive and is lost in the anger and passion of the sea. Only later do we realize that this pon farr scenario never occurred; Spock fled to prevent it from happening. We -- and Spock -- learn that Master T’Sai finds him three days after the ritual, covered in blood and semen, his wrist slashed in a futile attempt to excise Kirk. Spock fails the Ka’ama.

But we know Spock does not leave Gol after 11.4 months. The rest of the story moves quickly as Spock narrates being called by V’ger and Kirk and leaving Gol, taking only the bottle of oil. Next, at the end of the “simple feeling” scene, his mind and Kirk’s unwittingly touch, and Spock sees the diver vision -- but from the sea’s point of view, as Kirk has lived it every night. Stunned, Spock realizes the vision’s meaning and Kirk’s love (although I’m not sure I accept that a spontaneous bond formed years before without Spock’s knowledge -- I have to say something negative about the story!).

The passionate closing scene, the confession and consummation of their love, resonates with echoes of earlier images, now conveying not isolation and loss but love and joy. After Kirk ritualistically anoints Spock’s body with the oil before they make love, we return to the opening image, now made whole, which perfectly expresses Kirk and Spock’s mutual need, longing, and finally belonging: the diver returns to his home, the sea.

Thank you, Carolyn, for an utterly beautiful story.