My contributor’s copies of Filled with Glee have arrived, and they look very fine indeed, packed with interesting articles like “You think this is hard? Try being an Antagonist, That’s Hard!” by Jennifer Crusie, (Quote: “Aristotle would have loved Sue Sylvester”), “Musical Promiscuity” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, and Diane Shipley’s “Not Just a River in Egypt.”
Editor Leah Wilson’s introduction is here: it’s all about the brilliant imperfections of the show, and how it rises above them.
And, of course, I’m in it too, with “Who’s the Real LIMA Loser? The Curious Friendship of Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman,” in which I say, among other things:
Cheating, lying, and competing for the affections of women are all ancient human behaviors, of course, and if he were called upon to explain himself, it seems more than likely that Puck would say he was letting his groin make his choices for him. But on Glee, nothing is ever so simple. Fans of Puck’s bad-boy mystique have to ask whether poor impulse control is the whole story.
If you’d like a chance to Gleek out more than once a week, check it out. All articles should be entirely spoiler-free for S2, as the deadline for the book was just after the S1 finale. Enjoy!
This being Monday, I am over at Favorite Thing Ever, raving about the cop show Boomtown, which was cut off after a tragically short and thoroughly terrific run on NBC in 2002-2003. Or if you’re not inclined to humor me about the crime TV, check out Nate’s praise for Nanowrimo, which begins today!
Since it’s the beginning of a new month, I’m closing the door on the spider and cobweb pictures for awhile, and instead offer you shadows in the autumn fog:
A restorative and invigorating Samhain and Hallowe’en and Day of the Dead, everyone!
Today, rather than posting yet another spider photo, I’d like to announce that as a tie-in to the release of the trade paperback and Kindle editions of Indigo Springs, I am doing a giveaway of three copies of the novel, through the nice folks at Goodreads.
Want it? Don’t got it yet? This is your chance.
We flew to Calgary on Thursday for a family visit–flying was uneventful, as such things go, although there was an overwrought, huffing woman in the security line behind me, very clenched and angry-looking, emitting a put-upon sigh every thirty seconds or so, who ended up sitting right next to us. I decided to believe she was afraid of flying.
I had brought a few treasures from the Grotto al Formaggio with us in an insulated lunchbag; my sister in law loves cheese, and it’s a short flight. The security folks confiscated the ice pack I’d put in with them–no big surprise, I suppose, but K and I got up a fun riff about whether somebody could make a go of a low security airline for risk takers. In Canada, we decided, it would be called Slapshot Air.
We had to cancel the Onoway run to see Grandma. The reasons were good, but we are all disappointed to be missing each other. Instead we spent Friday puttering and doing bits of work at Casa Bro, playing with their Apple TV, comparing e-book readers, and embarking on a soup-off. K opened this event with a roasted butternut squash and corn soup: as I type this, she is making it and the house smells amazing.
(later) We made a quick, fruitless trip to a mall, looking for jeans and to see if the bookstore had a box of the Indigo Springs mass market edition in the back–I haven’t seen it yet. They might, apparently, but it isn’t unpacked yet; if I go back Sunday, I might be able to fondle… er, sign stock.
And soon Niecelet will be home from daycare and the worshipping can begin!
(still later) Ooh good worshipping has been had! I have some awesome pics!
The soup-off has become more of a food-off: Bro has decided he can’t match K’s soup, so we must have barbecued ribs tomorrow, and not one of us put up a fight over this ruling. He and Sis are off buying meat while we entertain the four year old adorableness. So far she’s tried to kill me with a racquetball, ripped the roof off her playtent, and consented to cavort in her Curious George costume.
Sherlock has begun airing on PBS and, like practically everyone else whose opinion I’ve heard, I loved it. I thought Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch were brilliant, I liked the script, and everything else I could squee about would be so very spoilery. I cannot wait for the next one.
Before SHERLOCK, Masterpiece aired S2 of Wallander, featuring little Kenny Branagh in the title role–remember when he was just that Henry Five guy?–as a deeply emo Swedish detective. These mysteries may not have the crackling struck-by-lightning appeal of Sherlock, but they’re good stories, well directed, with intrusive-but-nifty camera work and a stunning color palette. They offer a bit of a peek into another society (as filtered through British TV) and have good casts and solid enough mysteries.
There are many inappropriate humor moments to be had on this show, though. Wallander himself is precisely the sort of basket case that brings out a certain heartlessness in me. There’s been lots of Pause and Heckle: “Dude, if you’re so busy being upset that you don’t pay your bills, don’t go crying to me, in the dark, when the power company cuts off your juice. And, man, could you have said something dumber and more hurtful to your daughter? Hey, bummed out guy, why the uber-peppy ringtone?”
Seriously, the guy needs a nanny.
Wallander’s excuse might be that he appears to be the only competent cop in his particular unit: the others, as far as I can tell, have taken a full course of Useless Pills and a precautionary run of Huh? Boosters. They don’t help when he’s in danger, they barely blink when he goes all “Hey! People are dying, OMG, I’m so upset!” No, they shrug, dump unwanted boxes in his office and order pizza. No wonder he’s stressed out!
(Wallander’s obvious slash interest, as played by Richard McCabe, is Competent and Cares, but he’s a forensics guy, and thus his reach is limited.)
Humor aside, I definitely want to see the first season of this.