You all. Cover your eyes and ears if you do not wish The Moonstone to be ruined for you. Or, as River Song so succinctly puts it:
DUDES WEAR NIGHTGOWNS WHAT
I forgot this. No, you know what -- dudes wear nightSHIRTS. DAMN YOU WILKIE. This is like that story about the kid who gets into a car crash with his dad and the dad dies but the kid's taken to the hospital and the doctor looks at him and says "I can't operate on him; he's my son," and you're like "Whaaaaa?" and then it's like "'CAUSE THE DOCTOR'S A LADY -- BOOM! SEXISM EXPOSED."
Wilkie's all, oh, you thought you knew what was going on?
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| "HOW DO YOUR THEORIES FEEL BEING PUNCHED IN THE FACE?" |
Ok, but what happened here? We leave Miss Clack (boooo) and her talk of things like "the glorious prospect of interference," and we move to Mr. Bruff, who seems nice if not totally on top of things (mainly because he loves napping with his many pug dogs, and dude, who wouldn't?), and Bruff is kind of paternal in a good way, which is cool 'cause come to think of it, there aren't a lot of present father figures in this story and hm, that'd be interesting to examine if this were a different sort of readalong, but it's not, so instead we're going to say Mr. Ablewhite SUCKS IT and that whoa, Godfrey surprised almost no one by being a giant douchebag, but then we got to FRANKLIN, whom I love because he's a 20something idiot boy and just kind of adorable.
He and Rachel. Man. That scene was hilarious.
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| Everything's just so DRAMATIC when you're young |
I don't even know with them. I am 99% sure they're gonna end up together, so I guess for now just enjoy the impassioned hand-holding and tear-filled remonstrances (SO MANY TEARS) and various flingings of one's self onto assorted furniture. They're good kids. They've just gotta stop saying goodbye to each other for forever. It makes it awkward when they meet again.
I quite enjoyed Mr. Bruff's "The great traveller became quite interested in sounding the immense vacuity of my dulness to its lowest depths."
That was a nice one. And I think we all know that something's up with Ezra Jennings. Hah, piebald man. More like Mr. WEIRDO HAIR, amirite?
After Franklin met Lucy, I highlighted: "The one interpretation that I could put on her conduct has, no doubt, been anticipated by everybody. I could only suppose that she was mad" and I wrote in my notes "or SUPER GAY." Because Lucy + Rosanna forevs, people. If there's anything to be gained from the comment discussions last week, it's that Lucy and Rosanna are going to run away to France and live in the Eiffel Tower. Which hasn't been built yet, and also Rosanna seems pretty damn dead at this point. But we ignore both those items.
There's a bunch of stuff in here about social class boundaries, and if I were still in school, I'd totally be writing an essay about it, but I'm not, and I don't have to, so here's Liz Lemon closing me out:
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