Samantha Bee is -- oh good Lord, I was going to say she's the bee's knees

According to my Democrat friends, the Republicans basically drunkenly vomited all over themselves at last night's convention. I suspect they are somewhat biased. I wouldn't know, because I was watching Revenge on Hulu (it's based on LITERATURE, you guys).

This'll be a fun next couple months.

Then in the midst of convention drama, I saw people linking to Samantha Bee's Daily Show report, which is brilliant/hilarious and I think I've watched it five times so far:

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
RNC 2012 - The Road to Jeb Bush 2016 - The Republican Platform
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

And I remembered that I read her book I Know I Am, But What Are You? last year, and it was my totes favorite, but then I forgot about it. I HAVE FORGOTTEN NO LONGER. You guys, she's wearing a bee costume on the cover. Read it. It is hilarious. And wonderful. And I think I liked it better than Bossypants, but I should also admit that I wasn't that into Bossypants (I know).  She fricking stole cars in her teenage years. What non-drug-addicted celebrity does that? Samantha Bee. And she's married to another Daily Show correspondent, and they both continue the weird tradition of almost all our hilarious people coming from Canada, and WHAT IS UP WITH THAT. WHY ARE THEY ALL CANADIAN.

Doctor Who starts tomorrow, and today's episode of Pond Life (all eps available on the BBC's youtube channel) was SO SAD. They've been airing all week as preparation for the new series and they're put online at noon UK time, which is 6 a.m. here. I have a friend who is Also a Grown-Up, and we've been texting each other about it all this week at times no one should be awake. It struck me that it's rude to text someone at like 11 p.m., but 6:30 in the morning is FINE because -- job. This is not how my college self saw life. I should always awaken after the sun is up. As God intended.

HAPPY FRIDAY RANDOM POST. Here're Nine, Ten and Rose inspecting the Eleventh Doctor:

Harry Potter and the Possibility of Lengthy Arguments Over Whether Sirius Sucks or Not (He Does)

Things have been discussed. Declarations have been made. Insights have been shared. And what it boils down to is -- Harry Potter readalong?

I asked my brother to "throw some text" onto this image.
He is amazing.

Now some of you will say, "Isn't there already a Harry Potter readalong happening?" And yes. Yes there is. And you can totes join that if you want. 

But because some of us don't want to ruin this already-happening readalong with our irreverent gifs and lack of taking most anything seriously (although if anyone mocks Luna they will OF COURSE be tossed out on their ass in a very serious fashion indeed), it was thought -- different readalong? Different readalong. But in January. Until maybe Mayish? So people can read other things and still write hilarious posts of spoilerness.

1) Let me know if there is interest.

2) Would you all be down with breaking the books up over five months?

3) Do you have any different ideas?

4) My brother kicks ass.*



*note: "brother" is a catch-all term, for I have three brothers, and use the term indiscriminately. I know which one I'm talking about, but you all do not. It is probably better this way, as who wants to learn names? I certainly don't. End of note.

The Moonstone: All Things Must End. Exchange Your Friendship Bracelets Now.

Sigh. Another month over, another readalong finished. But LET US NOT BE DOWNHEARTED. For Laura at Devouring Texts is going to host one for Grapes of Wrath in October, and all will be magical. Also sad. Very, very sad. Because Grapes of Wrath. But there will be gifs, and that's what really matters.

First off. Wilkie.

We would like to express our undying love and passion, but you're dead (like so many people in this book — and by the way, wtf, sir) and so all we can do is tell others of your mighty deeds. And by mighty deeds, I mean giving us the character of Gooseberry, aka OCTAVIUS GUY.

This would be his business card

I want a spinoff called The Further Adventures of Sergeant Cuff and Octavius Guy. And then there'll be ANOTHER spinoff when Cuff gets too old called Sherlock & Octavius where they do a crossover and solve crimes together like a detective Odd Couple. I am ALREADY SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS and it doesn't exist.

Also, I am genuinely disappointed in Wilkie for not continuing the character of Gooseberry. Y'know what, Wilkie? Balzac was writing around the same time as you, and he had his characters appear in multiple books. WHY ARE YOU LETTING THE FRENCH SHOW US UP?

But for realsies, how was this book? There were no strong female POVs, and I admit to being sad about that, but we were seriously, totally and completely spoiled by Marian. Marian is a prince among female characters. Or something. And an anomaly in Victorian lit. Marian should not exist. And we are sooooo happy she does, because next to the Cult of Wilkie is the Cult of Marian, but we can't expect her in every book. That being said, Moonstone pretty much just enhanced my Wilkie love.

Now. Ezra Jennings.

EZRA JENNINGS HAS DREAMY BROWN EYES. So sayeth Franklin Blake. Because it's like Wilkie WANTS us to gay up all his books. But no, Franklin + Rachel 4evs, plus I just really love Ezra. Like a lot. A whole...whole lot. But I also really love highlighting things like "What is the secret of the attraction that there is for me in this man?" and writing "YOUR GAYNESS." Because it's funny, you see.

I almost got all weepy when I read that Ezra was dead. But we knew it was coming. Oh, we knew. Because 90 billion other people had already died in this book.

1. Lady Verinder - *sob* says Betteredge, while leafing through Robinson Crusoe in search of consolation and finding NONE because Lady Verindeeeeer!

2. Franklin's dad - Postponing Franklin's desert wanderings.

3. Rosanna - I can't believe she's really dead. I STILL can't believe it. This was all a big hoax perpetrated by her and Lucy. Yes. That.

4. That one guy who put down the carpet - GONE, and now they have to deal with the second best carpet-installer in England. Ew gross.

5. GODFREY ABLEWHITE - Was he supposed to be a big fat guy? I guess they said his face was round. But I was still SURPRISED, people. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

I'm sure other people died and I've just forgotten them. But EZRA WHYYYYYY YOU WERE THE BEST NOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I found myself caring much more for side characters than Franklin, Rachel, Mr. Bruff or — no, I love Betteredge's face off.

Speaking as a servant, I am deeply indebted to you. Speaking as a man, I consider you to be a person whose head is full of maggots

Betteredge, Cuff, Ezra, and Octavius Guy are all amazing. I want us all to live in an apartment building and have super-fun parties.

But for serious, cows are very useful animals, you guys.

I DON'T KNOW. It's 11 p.m. and this book is Not Very Serious and I cannot seriously evaluate it, because that's not how I do. I mean, what happens? A diamond is stolen from India. A diamond is stolen from England. A diamond is returned to India. THAT IS THE BOOK. Also there is some opium. Which as far as I'm concerned is like Wilkie using The Secret in a book nowadays. "Oh, you don't believe in this super-awesome thing I'm totally into? WHAT IF IT SOLVES ALL YOUR SLEEPING PROBLEMS." I'm not buying your opium propaganda, sir. I've read The Lotos-Eaters, I know what goes on.

I WILL MISS YOUR WEEKLY POSTS, PEOPLE. We will read more Wilkie next year. We totally will. Because this is the funnest and I love you all.

Eleanor & Park: Young Love At Its Least Annoying

Remember when everyone read Attachments and they were all "This is ADORABLE and hilarious and you should read it"? Ok, well I said that. And so did some other people I like.

Did you know that if you search 'eleanor park' on google image, the first thing that comes up is this?

You win again, Baroness

But you will also come across the UK cover of Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell.

I admit to being hesitant about reading this, because I loved Attachments SO much, and I knew this was about teenagers, and ew, teenagers. Also I've been getting sick of the Nick & Norah, Fault in Our Stars snarky witty John Green teenager vibe, and for all I knew, this just continued that.

BE NOT AFRAID, LITTLE SQUIRRELS. For I could not put it down. Well, I mean, I did at work and when I was singing and while looking at my brother's new baby, but ASIDE from that. Kept on reading.

So there's Park, and he's a teenager and there's Eleanor and SHE'S a teenager, and unsurprisingly they're both a little uncomfortable in their own skin, because teenagers. Eleanor's new at school and there's a bit of trauma re where to sit on the bus (you know how it is) and she ends up sitting next to Park, and LO A FRIENDSHIP IS BORN. Eventually. And then it's all:

It's just an extremely good book about the first time people fall in love. Because you know how you're walking along, minding your own business, not lookin' to the left or the ri--wait, that's the twitterpated speech in Bambi. Ok, basically you're living your own life, boppin' along, maybe watching some Tony Danza show, and then BAM! What? What is this new awareness of life and all its joyous wonders? And how many times can you talk about how amazing it is you found each other, because surely no one's ever said THAT before. And everything's just NEW.  

Reading this at the very least makes you remember that. Also about how important AA batteries were back in the day. Remember that bit of happiness? Your mom'd come home with a case of them from Sam's Club and it'd be like mini-Christmas. "POWER ALL THE DISCMANS."

Also Rowellisms are in it. Which is what I'm going to call Rainbow Rowell's one-liner type things.

Eleanor made him feel like something was happening. Even when they

were just sitting on the couch.

"I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death."

Did I mention this takes place in the '80s? So there are all these references you either get, don't get, or look up and learn a little something. Because of this book, I finally checked out Watchmen, know what Vans are, and I've now heard Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division.

If you don't hate great books, I BASICALLY promise you a reading experience that will engross and enawesome you. I love a ton of things about it, and I feel like writing about them all will spoil it. After reading it, I feel like I have a better understanding of humanity. Which is, to my knowledge, at least one of the main things books are supposed to do.

This is unfortunately not going to be published in the U.S. until next spring, but if you want to be amazing and flout the system/rage against the machine, you can order it from Fishpond with free shipping for something just under 20 bucks. Which is what I did. Totally worth it.

Poets: Making Words Rhyme and Not Rhyme for a While Now

Do you all realize the new series of Doctor Who is starting in NINE DAYS? I make no promises about the state of my mind grapes at that time. Fortunately it airs on a Saturday and I basically never update on the weekend, but OH THE EXCITEMENT. Especially since the new companion, Jenna Chipmunk Face, (SPOILERS AHEAD, ME HEARTIES) is wearing a LOT of Victorian clothes in set pictures, and this is obviously the bestest.

My friend with cable is going to be out of town, so it's going to be me. And my laptop. And a livestream of the BBC at like 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Like FANCY people do.

Now. Poetry. Do we like it.

I have to say, I have something of a prejudice against poetry, and it's probably got a lot to do with not wanting to look like a posing prancing idiot who thinks they just FEEL very intensely. But focusing on 19th c. British lit as I did, College made me take some Romantic lit courses, and all those bastards did was write poetry.

BUT SOME OF IT IS VERY GOOD. Good to the point of me being able to quote it? Hahahahahahaha no.

But some peeps I did not hate:

Lord Byron (I KNOW, he's so skeevy, but he was also hilarious and his Don Juan that I've never finished I enjoyed MUCHLY)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (in college I had an I'm-18-years-old moment in class when I almost cried while reading aloud from the Sonnets from the Portuguese -- I CAN'T HELP IT IF I FEEL THINGS ON A DEEPER LEVEL, GUYS) ((but for serious, it was Sonnet XIV and you need to read it))

Percy Bysshe Shelley (Omg fuck you PB Shelley and your gorgeous words -- wait, has anyone made a PB&J joke about him? IF WE WERE FRIENDS I WOULD CALL HIM PB JELLY ALL THE TIME)

Alexander Pope (he is HILARIOUS because the 18th century was hilarious when it wasn't being Pamela'd -- the grandkids of these people were all "I DON'T NEED YOU AND YOUR LOGIC - I AM GOING TO SMELL FLOWERS" -- but the Enlightenment kids? they are the best)

Christina Rossetti (THE GOBLIN MARKET IS SO NAUGHTY)

Basically I like the Victorians more than the Romantics, but some of the Romantics put words together and it is like "DUDE" because they are so pretty. I'm leaving out Keats, because...he's pretty good, but La Belle Dame sans Merci annoys me because he came up with this literary concept (negative capability) and then wrote a poem to prove it, and it's like "Dude...you can't write fiction to prove your own point. That's like what L. Ron Hubbard did." But he died and left a falsely modest epitaph ("Here lies one whose name was writ in water" -- really, Keats? Really?) and there we go.

I guess I also left out Tennyson. But Tennyson kind of whined a lot, guys.

The Moonstone: It Progresses

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?

"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.

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:

You Kids Get Off My Lawn-Type Thoughts on Authors. Etc.

All right. I said I'd blog about something bookish today. And I will, despite being up til midnight reading Who's the Boss fanfiction. I have been informed (by myself) that I am somewhat surly today. With that in mind, here're some authors I dislike for, in some cases, no good reason:

1. Hemingway.  Have I read anything of his? Nooooo. Do I believe I have a basic idea of his writing? Yeeees. Men and boats and dogs and drinking and brooding and maybe some fishing. Wow. Way to write about nothing that interests me. Except maybe dogs. But not when it's the dude's relationship with his dog and how he doesn't have any human friends because He Is Alone. I don't care about that. Stop it.

2. Audrey Niffenegger. Boooooo if only because I have to look up her name every time I'm writing it. Also Time Traveler's Wife sucks. If I could unread that book, I totally would. I could've read anything. Like R.L. Stine. But no, I read that. Ew.

3. Samuel Richardson.  Richardson and his stupid giant novel Pamela can just go make out, thereby keeping away from humanity at large. Do you have any idea how terrible Pamela is? Here's an interview with Richardson I just made up to prove my own point (it'd be a real interview, but he died in 1761):

Q: So, I understand you're writing a book.
A: Yes! It's written as a series of letters from a young servant girl to her loving parents.
Q: Oh my. What's she writing to them about? Life as a servant? That'll be interesting. Something of an exposé piece?
A: Oh no no no. It's about how the young gentleman in the house, Master B, keeps shoving his hand in her bosom.
Q: And...the book is called?
A: "Virtue Rewarded."
Q: I see.
A: Yes, it's to show the world, and more particularly young girls, that if you keep your virtue intact and are good, you'll be rewarded in this life.
Q: Ah yes, we heard about that premise here at the paper, and I asked our Mr. Fielding for a quote on it. His answer is that he has but one objection to it -- namely, "that it is not true." Any thoughts?
A: I--it is a MORAL piece intended to lead our young girls--
Q: Onto the path of delusion. No, I quite understand you, Mr. Richardson. I'm sure your book will be tremendously successful. Best of luck.



Pamela sucks.

4. Philip Pullman. Omg boooooooooooooo. Boooooooooo. Ok look. The Golden Compass is totes cool. It's a great book. Or at least a really good one. But the following two? I don't need Philip Pullman working out his issues with the Church in the book I'm reading. I mean, it's a pretty good plan I guess, that we pay HIM instead of him having to pay a therapist, but it's annoying as shit. Anytime someone writes from a point of anger -- real anger, not my sleepy grouchiness, thank you -- it's not going to be good. Because it's going to be so incredibly one-sided. He is obviously PISSED at the Church, and that's totally fine, but I don't want to read his bad writing about it.




I should probs just wrap it up right there. I have granola waiting and WHO can resist granola.

Oh, and I started Rainbow Rowell's second book, Eleanor & Park, and you should all go buy it from Fishpond, 'cause there's free shipping and it won't be published in the U.S. until next year. NEXT. YEAR. Get on that.

Nerd Conventions + Disastrous Things

So I went to a Stargate convention this weekend. My third Stargate convention. And look. I get it. Stargate isn't a very good show. I haven't even watched it in like four years. But Torri Higginson was going to be at the convention, and she played Elizabeth Weir on Stargate Atlantis, and Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard's eternal-but-unacknowledged-by-the-writers love was my jam senior year of college. So seeing Torri like two feet away from me gave me FEELS, people.

Jewel Staite, aka Kaylee from Firefly, was also there. Which pleased my friend Hannah greatly (oh, I didn't go to that shit alone -- I have some dignity).

I also finished the Titanic miniseries, which is available at a Netflix Instant near you, and is written by Downton Abbey man Julian Fellowes, lover of Rich People Getting a Happy Ending and Poor People Snuffing It. *glares*

I watched it because the new Doctor Who companion's in it, and I wanted to see if I like her. And I do. Also she shall no longer be Jenna-Louise Coleman, but rather Jenna Chipmunk Face.

Chipmunk Faaaace!

I'm sure you've noticed that I've pretty much just been posting about TV. This is because I've been too lazy to read other than The Moonstone. That's what's going on there. I'm not, like, secretly reading books, writing reviews and hoarding them. I'm just sitting on my ass at home, yelling shit at the tv. So your option is NO posts, or me writing about how Annie the second class maid and Paolo the waiter are meant to be. Speaking of which, I was texting my friend Katie while watching the Titanic thing, and she's been with me through the musical about the Eastland disaster and the Triangle Factory Fire remembrance, so she texted me "Maybe you should learn about a thing where everyone miraculously lives."

Ahahahahaha No, that won't be happening.

I'll come up with some awesome, actually bookish topic tomorrow. And then you'll be all like "Oh man, I SO wish you were talking about Grey's Anatomy some more, but I guess I can handle this." It'll be a special time for everyone.

*Rainbow Rowell's second book arrives in the mail*
Doug: That book's too big.
Me: That's because you judge books by whether you can fit them in your pants.
Doug: I do.

Doug carries whatever book he's reading in his pants pocket. The end.

Nobody expects the 3 a.m. book blog update!

I was a proud woman yesterday and in the days before. Perhaps too proud. I scorned all mention of Grey's Anatomy. "HAH!" scoffed I. "That show is for the plebeian masses who thrive off scandalous sexual antics in a medical setting and know not the majesty of truly well-written television."

And then came this past eve, when I have stayed up until 3 a.m. watching the entire Callie/Arizona arc on YouTube, and now I can scorn no longer. Gone — gone is my scorn! Gone the way of the stones that fell from the hands of Jesus' followers and were left abandoned in the street or wherever they'd stone people until they were repurposed for some other stonely activity! Be not proud and scornful, Ye Internet, for the same may befall you.

And now, some bookish thoughts.

I have picked up A Visit from the Goon Squad. It seems MOST excellently written indeed. Perhaps not Pulitzer material, but in its defense, I have read about five pages, and I'm assuming the Pulitzer committee read all of it.

The Looking Glass Wars has been on my shelf ABOUT five years and I finally read chapter 1. I like it. There's been a tendency lately to serious-up Alice in Wonderland, and I have no issues with this. Yes! LET there be asylums mentioned! Blur the lines between reality and fiction further, I implore you! Because you, Frank Beddor, will in all likelihood do it at least somewhat well, unlike that sickening, infantilized mess known as Sucker Punch.

The Book Thief is not terrible. I have read almost none of it, but it is not terrible, and is actually much better in the first chapter than I thought it would be. And it made me look around my desk and go "Look at all the color! I do not appreciate this phenomenon nearly enough in my life. MORE COLOR."

3 A.M. CALZONA PHOTOBOMB

"Hey, want to burn a couple of vacation days sleeping on the ground outside?"

My friend Doug (I'm sure you all remember Doug) is going camping this weekend, which made me realize that, along with a yearning to suddenly travel back in time to 1890 and hug everyone with leg-of-mutton sleeves, I harbor the delusion that camping would be really, really fun. This is the same sort of feeling that gets me excited during Chicago winters when I have to put on every piece of wintergear I own. "IT'S JUST ME AND YOU NOW, ELEMENTS."

This is a big reason I find certain cowboy novels attractive -- campfires! bedrolls! wide expanses! hats with brims! long rides ahead of us!

Of course, then I neatly leave out the threat of snakes/scorpions/kangaroo rats, but it's not like I'm going to be magically placed in The Sisters Brothers, so whatever.

Meanwhile:

Gratuitous Alex Kingston
GIF I'm never gonna find a
reason to use

I'm actually looking for other silent Western cowboyish novels. True Grit and Sisters Brothers were oh-so-similar in tone, and it's a tone I super-like. "We shall not use contractions! And there shall be strange characters met along the way. And a magical code of the West we shall refer to from time to time." Oh, so wonderful.

It's Thursday, and this is more Fridayish, BUT please be telling me particular genres you like. And remember that the more specific you are about shit, the more interesting it is. So if someone says like "Oh, I really like romantic sorts of novels," it's like "Oh, how very general of you." But if you say "I will ONLY read time travel narratives from the POV of a Polynesian man," it's like "Well. Let's delve into that and your psyche, please."

Of course, being that specific is nigh impossible, but STILL. Genres are usually so broad and boring. And we can CHANGE that.

I just saw Wednesday referred to as 'Winsday' for the first time. POSITIVITY.

You know that point of the day where you're just like:

"I'm sorry, this 'work' you speak of cannot be done."

Yeah. So. Wednesday. Other than the post today in honor of FRABJOUS MOONSTONE DAY, I updated less in the past few days than my normal, manically writing self is accustomed. So WHAT'S UP. Well. I met the lovely and awesome Rainbow Rowell on Saturday, who was in downtown Chicago. Nerd terms were explained (TO me, not by me -- I was astonished), hangover bananas were eaten (they work, people), Attachments was briefly discussed (WHY HAVEN'T YOU ALL READ IT). Excellent times.

What else? Author John Green was at LeakyCon (Harry Potter convention) and he was CONSTANTLY attended by a gathering of teenage lady devotees. He basically looks like a gawky nerd, which he seems to own, so more power to him. I feel like I'm the only person on the planet who didn't cry during The Fault in Our Stars, but at least part of that is because I finished it while eating french fries at Epic Burger. No one can be sad when there're french fries!

Ok, I JUST found the image that's the original reason I was going to post, so HERE YOU GO:

click to embiggen

The Moonstone, Part Two: The Eminently Quotable Miss Clack

Wilkie, please always use irritable relations of the main characters as narrators.

You've all forgotten Mr Betteredge already, haven't you? *glares accusingly* HOW COULD YOU FORGET HIM WHEN THIS HAPPENED:

She turned to me, and gave me her hand. I kissed it in silence.

I had a mini freak out when I read that. Because I love them. And their sekrit love that is communicated through her giving him orders to do things like make sure the horses are ready by six o'clock and him being like "It shall be done, my lady," which is Betteredge code for "As you wish" which is Princess Bride code for I LOVE YOU NOW ROLL DOWN A HILLSIDE WITH ME AND BATTLE SWAMP-RATS. I would so read that book. The Romantic Adventures of Lady Verinder & Betteredge.

Now. HOW OLD IS EVERYONE IN THIS BOOK?

Betteredge is in his 70s, right? And Rachel's like 20? So WHAT OF LADY VERINDER AND MISS CLACK? I'm SO confused. Because I thought L.V. and Betteredge were similar ages, but apparently NOT, and Miss Clack is like 40 in my head, but Rachel's her cousin so maybe not but maybe yes? Because sometimes siblings are older and stuff or get married late and then there're weird cousinly age disparities. And wait, if Ablewhite's Rachel's cousin is he Miss Clack's cousin? I guess not. I'm totally not keeping up with their family tree, but it seems so far like everyone is cousins with everyone else. Except Cuff. And maybe Betteredge.

And ok. I finally grant that Franklin is REALLY probably Franklin, although apparently he's been a not-so-good Franklin, but I'm obviously shipping him with Rachel now that it seems he for realsies is in love with her and she's in love with him. Her confession scene about him to Godfrey is summed up for me with this gif:

Meanwhile, she decides to keep saying shit like, "It will be known that I involved myself in the keeping of a miserable secret—" WHAT WHAT SECRET OMG TELL US FINALLY. I cannot TAKE this much longer. I mean, ok, they've given up some stuff, and I feel like I'm playing a weird Victorian novel version of Clue and I've just checked off Mr. Franklin, Mr. Ablewhite and Rachel from my detective sheet, but STILL.

And then Wilkie KILLED LADY VERINDER. Where's my deathbed confessional about having always loved Gabriel Betteredge, Wilkie? WHERE IS IT?

What else...let's not forget Betteredge's grabbing of Cuff's collar and pinning him against the wall because he was frustrated about Rachel. That was a shining moment. Also, the gentleman who's accompanying the Indians? HOW IS THAT NOT FOSCO? You know it is. Who else would do that? (nobody, that's who) Oh, Fosco. We miss you so much it hurts.

"I am full of dormant good qualities."

"a Patmos amid the howling ocean of popery that surrounds us"

"Its title was, 'A Word With You on Your Cap-Ribbons.'"

The one thing — ONE THING — that I have to say slightly against Wilkie is this: it's all very fine to make fun of Miss Clack. Because she is Miss Clack. But when you have an example of a ridiculous Christian woman, something Dickens IMO did better is to show how Christianity can best be demonstrated. So in Bleak House he does indeed have Mrs Pardiggle hounding the illiterate slumdwellers with her tracts, but he also has Esther and Ada going into the same home and helping with the baby and actually caring about the inhabitants. So there's that.

"The moral balance is restored; the spiritual atmosphere feels clear once more. Dear friends, we may go on again."

A synonym for 'Neanderthal' is 'boorish,' which just isn't very nice

So this article came out, which isn't really groundbreaking at all, but it happens to have been published the day after I watched part of the NOVA special "Becoming Human," so it's been on my brain anyway.

I was checking out a book a while ago called Cro-Magnon: How the Ice Age Gave Birth to the First Modern Humans, and it was all "Oh dude, our ancestors probably didn't even LOOK at Neanderthals. No way. 'Cause they would've been like, RIDICULOUSLY ugly."

This book was published in 2010. And what came out this year? DNA Shows Humans Found Non-Humans Irresistible

That's right. Your lady ancestor, at some point, sidled up to a Neanderthal gentleman and said "Hey. How's it goin'?

Because all non-Africans ('cause the Africans stayed put instead of traipsing around becoming the Don Juans of prehistoric Europe) have 1-4% Neanderthal DNA. So the above scenario DEFINITELY happened. Which is disheartening NOT because of my huge Neanderthal prejudice ("look at them, and their stupid big arms") but because what's published about them and the origins of man is probably totally off. I mean, we're learning more, which is neat, but we're still probably COMPLETELY WRONG ABOUT ALMOST EVERYTHING.

It's like with the dinosaurs. I didn't appreciate how little we probably know about dinosaurs until I saw a beluga skull.

There's no way we'd get it right
based on this

So basically, dinosaurs probably all looked like belugas and frolicked together in the days of yore. Is my point.

This actually started because I was going to talk about bipedalism and how yeah, evolution definitely seems to have been the way we happened, BUT I think God gave man a soul and that's what differentiates us from other animals ASIDE from bipedalism and being super-awesome (although otters are also super-awesome and who's writing about them? no one except weirdo otter enthusiasts), but then I went off on that whole tangent about our ancestors gettin' it on because they had some brow ridge fetish, and now I am done. HAPPY THURSDAY.

If I Might Quote Tumblr

For those of you not reading The Moonstone (sigh) and who don't like readalong posts (SIGH), this delightful tumblr post happened in my way this morning:

I just love thar Tumblr’s problem with 50 Shades of Grey isn’t “my goodness, it’s so pornographic!” but instead “oh my god this is the worst written porn I’ve ever read am I allowed to send this author some choice livejournal entries so she can improve her style”

 #We are the largest gathering of literary pornography snobs

Accuratest of the accurate. Because Tumblrkids were raised on fanfic. They know what's good, damnit. (Fifty Shades isn't good, even for what it is)

And for those who didn't want that (WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO PLEASE YOU PEOPLE), here's an emu and a kangaroo in the middle of a fight:

The Moonstone: Love, Music and Salad (and AWESOMENESS)

You guys. What if it were Mr. Franklin ALL ALONG.

WHAT is happening with Rosanna and him. Fingersmith is influencing me in untoward ways here. Let's all read some Sarah Waters after this. (fine. I'LL read some Sarah Waters after this)

And so begins The Moonstone! From what I could tell, pretty much everyone's had a similar reaction to the beginning, which is along the lines of "WHAT OMG THIS IS THE BEST. WILKIE WHY ARE YOU DEAD I WANT TO KISS YOUR OBSCENELY LARGE FOREHEAD WHAT'S UP WITH THAT WERE YOU DROPPED AS A BABY YOU KNOW WHAT IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE IT HAS RESULTED IN AMAZINGNESS."

Tika from Reading the Bricks kindly scanned in Wilkie's preface, because she is awesome, so it is here, here, and here.

I like to think Wilkie came up with the idea for this book in a tavern. Like, he and his bros were chatting and he was like "Oh yeah, there was a diamond or something that was cursed, right? Hey, what if I put the cursed diamond in an English country house and then it goes missing and it becomes, like, a detective story. Yeah. YEAH, damnit. I can write that."

There was obviously such a massive amount of stuff happening in this first quarter that if one tried to cover it all, it would take up a MASSIVE amount of space in people's Google Reader feeds. SO. I'm going to focus quickly on two things.

1. Nationality. Goodness gracious, Wilkie's really covering this, isn't he? It's 1868 and unlike many of his compatriots, instead of setting a novel in Italy (STOP DOING THAT VICTORIANS — YOU ALL SUCK AT IT), or broadly insulting all nationalities (thanks, Jane Eyre), he shows Indians who, while perhaps suspicious-seeming, aren't portrayed as evil (except for that bit about them not caring about human life). German philosophy is actually GONE INTO, which I was completely flummoxed by, making me realize Victorian novels that I have read do not — DO NOT — mention systems of thought from other cultures.

Of course, Mr. Franklin's multi-national education is not shown in the best of lights, but since different countries DO have different teaching methods, it does seem like learning pretty much all of them during impressionable years would leave someone confused. And I do enjoy when his Italian side comes out. Oh, those Italians.

David being Italian in the Victorian sense

So I'm pretty jazzed to see what comes of the further presentation of nationalities.

The SECOND thing is Lady Verinder. Also her bratty daughter, whom I SO wanted to like, but then she had to go and throw a fit over them looking at her clothes. IT JUST MAKES YOU MORE OF A SUSPECT, RACHEL.

So, we see the two of them solely through Mr. Betteredge, another STELLAR Wilkie narrator. Oh man. Him and his kind of pervy old man ways. I wish Marian were staying at the Verinders' house. Although knowing Marian, she'd probably see him pulling some servant girl onto his knee to 'comfort her' and she'd be like "Well, we are a ridiculous sex that needs that sort of thing." Oh, Marian. I love you.

ANYWAY. The only thing I'm getting, which is purely through subtext (...I think) is that Mr. Betteredge is completely in love with Lady Verinder, and she's kind of into him, but probably in a terrible, Remains of the Day kind of way. Damn I hate that movie. DAMN YOU CLASS STRUCTURE. And I'm assuming Wilkie's not gonna subvert it, or more would be made of this book. But yes, so we see the lady of the house, and she's painted as very commanding and super-awesome, and her daughter's supposed to be opinionated but ALSO awesome, but this is all Betteredge's opinion and limited viewpoint and AGH it's all very interesting.

"How it was, I don't understand, but we always seemed to be getting,
with the best of motives, in one another's way. When I wanted to go
upstairs, there was my wife coming down; or when my wife wanted to go
down, there was I coming up. That is married life, according to my
experience of it."

That is the best.

I totally count on you all to mention everything I didn't in your posts. EVERYTHING.

Top Ten Tuesday Is SUPER-AWESOME When You Think About It (or when you don't)

Are you KIDDING? I get to link to ten posts that people probably won't read, but you should, for I shall endeavor to find hilarious ones? And I'm gonna do like six, because otherwise it's OVERWHELMING WITH THE LINKS.

Well, this is all terrifically exciting. Top Six Posts That Show the Parts of Me I Have Deemed Fit for the Internet:

1. The Brontes -- What's Up With Them? - Ah, my very first post. This is the one where I compare the Brontes to sea turtles.

2. In Which I Speak of Austenian Things - Back before I noticed everyone was labeling posts 'In which,' etc etc, I did that for a bit. Here tea sets are compared to iPhones. For I like comparing things.


3. The Book of Deuteronomy Always Gets That Song from 'Cats' Stuck in My Head - Bibley things.

4. Fanfiction and Why It Doesn't Suck - FANFICTION IS AMAZING

5. Dickens and My Kind of Overblown Prejudice Against Him - Stupid Dickens.

6. The Scarlet Pimpernel Makes Me Ashamed of the Past - It does.

Six isn't ten? Well GUESS WHAT.

There are no fun songs about Mondays

Damn, you guys. I have a Who's the Boss Monday hangover. WHO'S THE BOSS. Because my evil friend Skye said "Hey, come over Sunday night; we'll watch Who's the Boss." Because that's the kind of thing my friends do. "Can you summarize Tony and Angela's relationship in three and a half hours?" I asked. "Yes, I can," she said. EXCEPT I STAYED FOR FIVE BECAUSE TONY AND ANGELA HAVE A LOVE THAT WILL NEVER DIE.

I'd never seen that show before. Just saying. But there were some pretty strong '80s television feelings happening in Lakeview last night.

AHHHHHHHHH

Shipping things is my JAM, people. I talk about books, but they're just another way of finding things to ship. If you don't know what shipping is, 1) How are you internetting? 2) Are we friends, because I'm pretty sure all my internet friends are fangirls. 3) Edumacate yourself.

I went to the library Saturday, braving Lollapalooza teens who all decided that NOW was the time to dress like streetwalkers and Venice Beach-goers from 1991. When I was a teen I got very up in arms about my generation dressing in a slutty way, and now I basically figure if they want to look slutty, they'll look slutty, no matter what the time period. So in 1901 they'd show some ankle (WHAT) and now they use tube tops. Which I feel like shouldn't be a thing anymore, but there we have it. So they'll do that, the smart girls will do well in life, and there's an end to it.

I was at the library to get some sheet music, BUT I also checked out the Wilkie Collins section, and GOOD LORD THERE ARE SO MANY BOOKS. Granted, some might suck. For those who've been doing the readalongs, we're reading stuff from his middle period, so the early stuff? Could be rough. But still. WILKIIIIE. I'm obviously going to be writing about him Wednesday, but the fact that he was Dickens' BFF is astonishing. Their outlooks on life seem completely different, and I get that people can be friends despite that, but it seems to boil down to Dickens being a douchebag and Wilkie being awesome. But then, of course, we have the Wilkie-lived-with-two-ladies-and-what-now? thing. Also, are we aware he named one of his daughters Marian? NO SURPRISE. Because Marian is the best. Anyway. People Are Complicated.

Well. Happy Monday, all. Let's try to wake up. Maybe get some coffee. Think about some hit ABC sitcoms from the '80s.

Ewoks, Wilkie Collins & Race Relations, and Dinosaurs on a SPACESHIP

If you guys aren't taking part in The Moonstone readalong, I URGE YOU to change your mind, because it's already like a zillion kinds of fun and we haven't even started the book.

Well. I mean, I have. And some other people. And omg it is AWESOME. Y'know how you read Dickens, and you're like "Wow, women were really boring in this century"? TURNS OUT THEY WEREN'T -- HE JUST WROTE THEM THAT WAY.

Damnit, Charles, we've discussed this. And someone mentioned that while Wilkie was kind of like "Maybe we SHOULDN'T go into India and take all their stuff and kill all their people," Dickens was like "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT" and huffed off. I hope that's followed up on in more detail next week, Whoever Wrote About That (I visited a lot of blogs yesterday).

By the way, WHAT HAS A NEW TRAILER OUT TODAY? Oh right, that'd be Doctor Who, the Best Show of Any Show in the History of Shows.

Let's not talk about how excited I was to see Alex Kingston for those two seconds DESPITE already having seen spoiler pics of her in that outfit on set.

ALSO, I didn't even know this trailer was coming out today, but last night I had a dream that Matt Smith, Karen Gillan, Arthur Darvill and I were on a plane to the OLYMPICS and were met at the house where we were staying by Alex Kingston, and there was a subplot with some alien villain person and pills that made people act weird and the evil aliens just wanted to find out what made love end, and then they would leave. And Alex Kingston and I were all hangin' out. Was GREAT.

I hope you all weren't ever expecting this blog to be about Something, because it is most decidedly about Nothing.

The Moonstone: It. Begins.

CAN YOU FEEL THE EXCITEMENT?

Another Wilkie readalong has begun. Ah, hearken back to the days of yore (April), those of you who participated in the Woman in White readalong, and think on how little we knew. HOW PITIABLY LITTLE. And now we return, a little older, a little more imbued with the respect for Wilkie that he deserves. And with some new people joining us! Oh, how thrilling.

To those of you who haven't done this before, link your post up in the Linky (I know, it's complicated) and try to visit at least some of the readalong participants, because WITHOUT DISCUSSION, THERE IS NO READALONG.

Like an idiot, I didn't assign the prologue. It's like four pages. And AWESOME. You know that guy who narrates the Mummy movies? Ardeth? The member of the Medjai? And he's all mysterious and full of gravitas? That's how I hear the prologue. It's The Mummy Returns of the 19th century. Also — ALSO he uses a device that was used in things like The Fifth Element and OMG I hope he was the first to use it, because Wilkie, you are so clever and awesome and let me smoosh your face.

We'll stand around, Wilkie. We'll stand around.

So I asked you all to look up the Siege of Seringapatam, which I assume some of you did — BEGRUDGINGLY, if your comments were any indication — and so you all know that in 1799, the English went into southern India and killed the ruler there, mainly so they could maintain control of the region. 50,000 people against 30,000, so this wasn't a tiny siege. There was a lot going on in India at the time, what with Napoleon trying to take "British" assets there and all sorts of battles happening, and Lord Nelson being in the middle of things and then getting statues made of him. It seems to have sucked to actually BE Indian during this whole Indian conflict, and while the book's not about that (I don't think), it should probs be noted. Boo the British. Boo the French. But huzzah for Wilkie, who is not pro-killing people.

The first huge section is all this one guy's POV, so next week when we meet, we shall discuss him and whether we like him or not and if any kickass ladies even REMOTELY resembling Marian have appeared and how much we all love Wilkie even if his BFF was Dickens, because sometimes people are lovely but their friends are terrible and what can I say it's a mystery we might never figure it out.

p.s. I ignored my own advice and didn't give background info on me, so HEY, I'm Alice. I like opera and cryptozoology and ladies wearing bustles.