Tag books

Grievance #3: Childermass and the Raven King

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Last week, I started a series of posts (#1, #2) in which I comment on what I was sad to miss in the (quite decent overall) BBC TV series “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell”, compared to the wonderful original book.

Like the second post in the series, today’s post is also a commentary on the feelings nearly impossible to project on the screen vs. paper, vs. living them.

Unlike the second post in the series, take this major spoiler alert if you haven’t read the book and there is even a remote possibility that you would.

Continue reading “Grievance #3: Childermass and the Raven King” →

Grievance #2: the Greysteels

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With this entry, the aspiring series that started with yesterday’s post becomes an actual series, in which I comment on what I was sad to miss in the (quite decent overall) BBC TV series “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell”, compared to the wonderful original book.

This post today, apart from a fangirl rant, is also a commentary on what may be a fundamental difference between what’s captivating on screen vs. on paper and, I would posit, in life.

If you haven’t read the book, here is your minor spoiler alert.   Continue reading “Grievance #2: the Greysteels” →

So I Watched a TV Series Based on a Favorite Book

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I binge watched a TV series based on one of my favorite books the other weekend.

“Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell“, the epic 2004 novel by Susanna Clarke, was made into a 7 episode TV series (about 1 hour each episode) by the BBC (2015).

The book is not for everyone.   Continue reading “So I Watched a TV Series Based on a Favorite Book” →

Shadow’s Heart

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“I’ll take your heart. We’ll need it later,” and she reached her hand deep inside his chest, and she pulled it out with something ruby and pulsing held between her sharp fingernails. It was the color of pigeon’s blood, and it was made of pure light. Rhythmically it expanded and contracted.

-Neil Gaiman, “American Gods”

Monday Evening Company

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Hi, what are you up to? I text Tom on a Monday.  Working late, he responds, as he does sometimes.

Another friend who occasionally claims to enjoy my company said he’d be in town Monday evening.  Hi,  wanna meet for a drink after my assisting gig?  I text him.  Sorry, no, he replies, I’ll be too far still.

And so I stop by a store, have a snack alone, go home alone, go to bed alone.  Except I am not.  Continue reading “Monday Evening Company” →