Off the Cliff

kickinpants sent me Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell in paperback. I'd looked at the thing when it first came out, looked at the size and the price, opened a page and found a paragraph about some military engagement, and decided it wasn't for me. But yesterday I opened the book as I was standing in my kitchen and looked at the beginning- and read three pages of small print by the fluorescent counter light, seriously stunned.
( Ever been to Italy? )

The world is invited to leave me alone tomorrow. I have the day off and the usual September megrims in the lungs and the Taiki arc of Juuni Kokuki in paperback that shiny_monkey brought over for me, and I intend to spend the day on the sofa with that last trying to find some answers as to What Happened. There must be answers somewhere or people couldn't fic about What Happened, right? And if the answers aren't in Kaze no Umi Meiro no Kishi uhh don't tell me, OK, or I shall weep great salt tears.
( Read more... )

Have finished the beast. Better than OotP, certainly, but that's damning with faint praise. Better than anything but Philosopher's Stone and PoA, I think, though I've never reread any of the books and my memory is vague.

And now I shall go back to ignoring the net again because people I would never have expected to be unintelligent on the subject are being so. Starting with the woman who (rightly, I then thought) threatened to defriend anyone who spoilered her and then put an uncut spoiler into her post-read post. People still don't know what a spoiler is and clearly will never learn.

But a vote of thanks goes to (possible spoiler here) the person in a certain community who, when some twit said 'X and Y happen-- at least that's what I heard somewhere, don't know if it's true or not,' answered with utter assurance 'It's not.' It was. Go them.

Meanwhile I did not win my horse race. Sadness. But Akino Matsuri is still a fun mangaka and perfect summer reading, so I return to Masked Detective Suzuki Tarou.

The heat began on Sunday, but more than three hot days in a row registers with me as 'always.' It's always been hot. But even though everyone's saying they've never known a year as hot as this, I can't agree. It's 33 and 34 every day and the humidex is unspeakable; but I distinctly recall late-80s summers of day after day of 37 and 38 with unspeakable humidexes, and the bodily reaction of Red Alert! Red Alert! get into AC now. This weather is still on the bearable side during the day. The nights... well, the nights suck. But this is still the first night I may keep the AC on straight through, cause I've been turning it off once the bedroom cools. (Then there was the summer of '94 in Tokyo which set a record for number of 'tropical nights', which is something hideous like nights that don't go below 28C/ 82F. I had my dorai kiipu and never went anywhere in the evening after work for nearly two months because bicycling was simply out of the question.)
( Nonetheless brainmelt currently exists, with interesting results )

Occurred to me that what Sorceror-Gentleman is most like is a manga. Those oddly assorted names are oddly assorted the way the Japanese would do it. 'Golias- that's a medieval name. Goliards were named after him. And Gaston, that's French, the counts of southern France. And Dewar is a cute name. I've always liked it.'

The jumping to important bits and leaving out the interim action- even when we've been led up to expect to see the action- and the emphasis on results also feels like manga cutting. We don't need to see it all. What matters is seeing the characters' faces as they deal with what happened.

I must add, in all honesty, that the last third or so reminded me of Angel Sanctuary as well, in its chaotic three cars driving down a cliff fashion. Keeping track of who's where doing what gets impossible as the various whos set out to get hold of the other whos who have just magicked out in a blast of flame, somehow *not* taking the villain who was bolted into the room with them along. In fact the villain is both alive and in favour as of book 2, and I'm seriously perplexed as to both how and why. He's a traitor to the throne several times over, at the very least; why does the throne still think he's necessary?

I was wondering how she'd avoid having her umm major character avoid the Marty Stu pit he seemed to be so nonchalantly galloping towards. Making him male-type dense at important moments wasn't the solution I was hoping for, perhaps, though it works only too well. (Stupid *git*.) And I need to find a term for this type of character, cause Marty Stu isn't it. Peter Wimsey is, maybe. You're not supposed to identify with this perfect male, you (the female reader by default) are supposed to fall in love with him yourself.

I spent the evening reading Edogawa Rampo, another book unearthed from the Box in the Basement. In that I finished the book, and in one evening, this counts as accomplishment.
( On being dated or demented )

Why is there no LJ community called hormones_suck? I would so be in to posting there.
( other musings )

My bouts of employment are sporadic and when they happen in the wintertime tend to waste me completely. That's partly about early morning darkness and mostly about not being able to bicycle at least to the subway and having to get up anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour early. I was employed last week and am consequently completely wasted today in spite of my sedate and early New Year's Eve.
( Notes from underground )