I got set next to this woman… She kept on, kept on. Finally told me, said: I don’t like the way this country is headed. I want my granddaughter to be able to have an abortion. And I said well ma’am I don’t think you got any worries about the way the country is headed. The way I see it goin’ I don’t have much doubt but what she’ll be able to have an abortion. I’m goin’ to say that not only will she be able to have an abortion, she’ll be able to have you put to sleep. Which pretty much ended the conversation.
– Cormac McCarthy, No Country for Old Men
One of my favorite authors. Reading All the Pretty Horses carried me about as close to heaven as one can get.
Those of you who know me know that I’ve been obsessed with the BBC America show, Orphan Black since the very first episode. (You know, back when it was scraping the bottom of the barrel for advertisers.)
I held my breath, my baited breath, waiting for this season.
I’m so sorry I did. What a waste of good air.
While the show has always been dark, the writers have decided to take the show in a dark’er’ direction, down an, in fact, unrelentingly dark road. Oh, they’ve made minimal attempts at comedy, but they are nothing like the off the wall hilariously funny ironic deeply disturbed comedic moments of the last three seasons.
Of all the story lines from which the writers had to choose, choosing to feature the Neolutian psychos and sycophants was the worst possible choice- IMO. It’s the story I least want to see, find the least interesting and, unfortunately, most disturbing in a stomach churning makes me want to vomit sort of way. Of course the other issue this season is the increasing number of clones, which, in turn, causes the writers to give short shrift to the clones about whom I actually care.
***Note to writers: Never a good idea to add a clone with a terrible awful weird-ass no-good-reason haircut, who sounds like a garbled version of one of my favorite clones, Helena, but who speaks in such a low whisper I, the viewer, can’t understand a word she says.
Even the best authors sometimes make the same mistake. Get the reader invested, really really really invested in your characters, then backlist said characters and try to get readers invested in new characters. Rarely works. Or rather, it takes a rare talent to make it work. Not. Happening. Here.
The only character worth watching thus far? Ferdinand. Orphan Black fans know who and what I’m talking about.
I realized after this most recent episode that Orphan Black is no longer entertaining. It’s depressing. With a capital D. As in, Depressing. I’m done with the show for now.
Ah well. Orphan Black had a moment. Now it’s gone. Happens to the best of ’em.
In the meantime, I’ll stick with Vikings and Game of Thrones. Oh, and when it returns next season~ Lucifer! (Such a guilty pleasure!)
My sexy contemp. Go buy it. Seriously. This is both fun and sexy. Loved re-writing!
Registered nurse Maggie is done with men. Flying to Minneapolis to celebrate her sister’s engagement, she’s seated beside the type of man she always falls for. A sexy, arrogant alpha jerk.
Dr. Mace Williams irritates the woman next to him. She’s so damn sexy, he doesn’t care. When their seatmate suffers a cardiac arrest, Maggie and Mace team up to save his life, but despite their stellar teamwork it’s too late. Mace makes an unscheduled stop to meet with the man’s family while Maggie continues her journey.
In Minneapolis, Maggie heads to a restaurant with her sister, only to find Mace waiting. Worse, she learns he’s the brother of her sister’s fiance. But still, he is a sexy beast. Stuck in her sister’s apartment with Mace, Maggie offers him one night of sex, anything goes. No obligations, no recriminations.
Mace agrees…he wants more than Maggie’s body, he wants her heart.
Thrown into a disastrous canoe trip, they must once again work together, but this time it’s their own survival at stake. Maggie must face her demons and trust Mace with her life. Mace is determined to save her, regardless of what the future brings.
Say what you have to say in as few words as possible.
I’m not a big fan of flowery language in modern literature.
Flowers are fine for Shakespeare and Emily Bronte. Homer can be a bit wordy, but then his stuff is really old. As is Flavius Josephus. He’s kinda hard to get through. He’s relating factual history as he knows it, but his language is pretty stuffy by our standards. I’m sure his contemporaries understood it just fine.
What makes me DNF a book? Too much description. Too many unnecessary details. Unless it is essential to the story I don’t need a detailed description of, say, a desk. If a particular desk is integral to the story, well then yes, by all means provide a detailed description. If it’s just a desk, then it’s just a desk.
I don’t need to hear an endless recitation of the beauty, depth, color, or whatever of the heroines eyes.
Think of Brendan Fraser. Think of Brendan Fraser as The Most Sensitive Man in the World. (Bedazzled.) You get my drift. He’s too much.
What is essential to the story. That’s all I need. Use your words sparingly and if you use them right, you can make beautiful metaphors out of scarcity.
Haiku is the simplest most beautiful form of poetry, IMO. There is value in spare.
In the cicada’s cry No sign can foretell How soon it must die.