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Neverwhere
Um yes. So I finished my Neverwhere disk and then googled the rest of the series, saw what was going to happen and said No wai. And took the DVDs back, with Infernal Affairs unwatched but-of-course.
However I saw there's a Neverwhere book and I considered getting it, except
avalonjones thought it twee. Somehow I couldn't reconcile twee with the horrors promised in part 2, though I'm sure Gaiman could manage it if anyone could. But I thought, yanno, I *would* kinda like to see more of the Marquis... And then both these ideas fused and I experienced satori. I'd thought there was something slightly off in the Marquis' delivery, as though he were singing a familiar song half a tone flat, or whatever it was Vaughn Williams used to do to murder English folk songs. But it wasn't Joseph's delivery, which was spot on. It was Gaiman being his own brand of arch and insufferable. Yes I know mileage varies on this, but the little I've read of his fiction rubs me the wrong way precisely because of the knowing tone.
The oddity of Gaiman is that the tone of his *blog* is perfect: detached, reasonable, civil, friendly, someone you'd be happy to know as a person. Which makes him different from all the other writers who've caused me to say that writers shouldn't keep blogs, a position that's been miserably validated this year. However.
However. Yesterday was a miserable day in TO, an afternoon of headaches and irritability and screaming infings, and *my* day didn't end until 8. Bicycled home in the drizzle and passed Brunswick Ave and a voice said But there *is* a novel, so I cut up Brunswick to BMV. Which never has what I want except when I shouldn't buy it (its collection of Chinese textbooks is particularly notable in this respect) so of course it had a copy of Neverwhere. Which I bought. Am trusting that the memory of the live action charas will ameliorate their presentation in the book.
Not that most of the series characters knocked me over or anything. But oh sweet lord British English is music to the ear after what I normally hear in this town. (Not true: normally I hear a cornucopia of ESL accents and the best Canuck can get, which is Maritimes. But on the street I run into the full Toronto male bray and female tinny, projected from the roof of the mouth. Truly, you'd think half the white women here had no lungs, because they sure don't use them when they talk.) There are few North American accents one can call musical, so Gary Bakewell's lilting Scots-or-whatever (because to my ears it still sounded like the Beatles used to do) was a reminder of what English *can* sound like. It could still have used subtitles, says the tin-eared Canuck in this corner who couldn't hear the difference between a tone 1 and a tone 4 if it came up and bit her.
Also must note that my terribly useful Chinese textbooks were bought for what textbooks cost back in the 60s, which is always a pleasure.
However I saw there's a Neverwhere book and I considered getting it, except
The oddity of Gaiman is that the tone of his *blog* is perfect: detached, reasonable, civil, friendly, someone you'd be happy to know as a person. Which makes him different from all the other writers who've caused me to say that writers shouldn't keep blogs, a position that's been miserably validated this year. However.
However. Yesterday was a miserable day in TO, an afternoon of headaches and irritability and screaming infings, and *my* day didn't end until 8. Bicycled home in the drizzle and passed Brunswick Ave and a voice said But there *is* a novel, so I cut up Brunswick to BMV. Which never has what I want except when I shouldn't buy it (its collection of Chinese textbooks is particularly notable in this respect) so of course it had a copy of Neverwhere. Which I bought. Am trusting that the memory of the live action charas will ameliorate their presentation in the book.
Not that most of the series characters knocked me over or anything. But oh sweet lord British English is music to the ear after what I normally hear in this town. (Not true: normally I hear a cornucopia of ESL accents and the best Canuck can get, which is Maritimes. But on the street I run into the full Toronto male bray and female tinny, projected from the roof of the mouth. Truly, you'd think half the white women here had no lungs, because they sure don't use them when they talk.) There are few North American accents one can call musical, so Gary Bakewell's lilting Scots-or-whatever (because to my ears it still sounded like the Beatles used to do) was a reminder of what English *can* sound like. It could still have used subtitles, says the tin-eared Canuck in this corner who couldn't hear the difference between a tone 1 and a tone 4 if it came up and bit her.
Also must note that my terribly useful Chinese textbooks were bought for what textbooks cost back in the 60s, which is always a pleasure.

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Edited to note - psychologically upsetting. Gaiman doesn't really do the axe murder sort of horror, but even watching the film version of Coraline I was near tears half the time. (At the same time I could perceive - and this is the standard warning on that particular book - that for a child in the target age range it would be a straightforward fantasy adventure story and not upsetting at all.)
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I have both Coraline and The Graveyard Book. But the girl and hubby pounced on Coraline and the boy (6 and a half) is reading 'Graveyard'.
Ahhh sorry for the interrupt.
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Coraline is only upsetting to adults because the trigger is the sense of not being able to help a child in danger / "where is your child right now" / parental neglect/guilt/resentment. Even though I don't have children. ^^; If I were nine it wouldn't have upset me either.
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Looking forward - as always - to see what you have to say about it!
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And I really like Guy Gavriel Kay, although I have to agree with
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The GGK was a throwaway, something about 'the children had finally stopped screaming-- they lasted longer on the wheel than adults.' Wossis has had his guards round up random citizenry in retaliation for something and doesn't discriminate on the basis of age or sex. Kay likes his gore and his horrors, and IMO includes them gratuitously; so no, I'll never read him again.