(no subject)

Sep. 13th, 2025 09:21 am
skygiants: clone helmet lit by the vastness of space (clone feelings)
[personal profile] skygiants
Broadly speaking, I liked Star Wars: The Mask of Fear, the first book in a planned trilogy of Star Wars Political Thrillers pitched as Andor Prequels, For Fans Of Andor.

This one is set right after the declaration of the Empire and is mostly about the separate plans that Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pursue in order to try and limit their government's whole-scale slide into fascism, with -- as we-the-readers of course know -- an inevitable lack of success. It is of course impossible not to feel the weight of Current Events on every page; the book came out in February '25 and so must have been complete in every respect before the 2024 elections, but boy, it doesn't feel like it. On the other hand, it's also impossible not to feel 2016 and Hillary Clinton looming large over the portrayal of Mon Mothma as the consummate politician who is very good at wrangling the process of government but whom nobody actually likes.

That said, as a character in her own right, I am very fond of Mon Mothma, the consummate politician who is very good at wrangling the process of government but whom nobody actually likes. With her genuine belief in the ideals of democracy and her practiced acceptance of the various ethical compromises that working within the system requires, she makes for a great sympathetic-grayscale political-thriller protagonist. I also like the portrayal of her marriage in this period as something that is, like, broadly functional! sometimes a source of support! always number three or four on her priority list which she never quite gets around to calling him to tell him she's back on planet after a secret mission before the plot sweeps her off in a new direction, oops, well, I guess he'll find out when she's been released from prison again!

Anyway, her main plot is about trying to get a bill passed in the Senate that will limit Palpatine's power as Emperor, which involves making various shady deals with various powerful factions; meanwhile, Bail Organa has a separate plot in which he's running around trying to EXPOSE the LIES about the JEDI because he thinks that once everyone knows the Jedi were massacred without cause, Palpatine will be toppled by public outrage immediately. Both of them think the other's plan is kind of stupid and also find the other kind of annoying at this time, which tbh I really enjoy. I love when people don't like each other for normal reasons and have to work together anyway. I also like the other main wedge between them, which is that both of them were briefly Politically Arrested right before the book begins, and by chance and charisma Bail Organa joked his way out of it and came out fine while Mon Mothma went through a harrowing and physically traumatic experience that has left her with lingering PTSD, and Mon Mothma knows this and Bail Organa doesn't and this colors all their choices throughout the book.

Bail Organa's plot is also sort of hitched onto a plot about an elderly Republic-turned-Imperial spymaster who's trying to find the agents she lost at the end of the war, and her spy protege who accidentally ends up infiltrating the Star Wars pro-Palpatine alt-right movement, both of which work pretty well as stories about people who find themselves sort of within a system as the system is changing underneath them.

And then there is the Saw plotline. This is my biggest disappointment in the book, is that the Saw plotline is not actually a Saw plotline; it's about a Separatist assassin who ends up temporarily teaming up with Saw for a bit as he tries to figure out who he should be assassinating now that the war is over, and we see Saw through his eyes, mostly pretty judgmentally. I do not object to other characters seeing Saw Gerrera pretty judgmentally, but it feels to me like a bit of a cop-out in a book that's pitched as 'how Mon Mothma, Bail Organa, and Saw Gerrera face growing fascism and start down the paths that will eventually lead to the Rebel Alliance' to once again almost entirely avoid giving Saw a point of view to see his ideology from within. But Star Wars as franchise is consistently determined not to do that. Ah, well; maybe one of the later two books in this trilogy will have a meaty interiority-heavy Saw plotline and I'll eat my words.

(NB: I have not yet seen S2 of Andor and I do plan to do so at some point, please don't tell me anything about it!)

The Plague of Doves - Louise Erdrich

Sep. 13th, 2025 08:55 am
troisoiseaux: (reading 11)
[personal profile] troisoiseaux
Read The Plague of Doves by Louise Erdrich, which is not quite a short story collection but not quite a linear novel; it's sort of a matryoshka doll of stories - the direct narratives that each of novel's three main narrators "tell" to the reader, stories told diegetically to the narrators by other characters, etc. - each "layer" compelling enough in its own right that I not infrequently forgot how they nestled together until coming to the end of a given story thread. (Actually, according to the author's note, a number of chapters had previously been individually published in various magazines, so... I guess it is indeed a novel in interconnected short stories?) Basically, it's about the ways that 3-4 families in a small town in North Dakota have interacted over generations (between 1890s-1970s?), which includes murders and lynchings and rescues and cults and affairs and crushes and strange convoluted crimes and redemption arcs. It would have been helpful to have a family tree or cast of characters, and some of the subplots were... distinctly odd, but overall a top-tier Erdrich.
sovay: (I Claudius)
[personal profile] sovay
I am glad to read that a classicist on Tumblr whom I do not know feels validated by a poem I wrote a dozen years ago, because she's right in turn about the linkage of ideas that led to its writing: the evocatio of Juno from Veii in 396 BCE, the evocatio of Tanit from Carthage in 146 BCE, the assimilation of Tanit to Juno Caelestis rather than Ištar-starred Venus, the self-fulfilling loop of enmity that a double-thefted goddess makes of the Aeneid and under it all the irony that Vergil even in his Renaissance aspect as magician could not foresee, that Carthage-haunted Rome was itself built on the needfire of the most famously sacked city of the ancient world, Troy whose gods Aeneas salvaged from the night of its destruction and now we remember Rome as the epitome of decadence, the eternally, contagiously falling city.

Also I had just been turned down by a housing situation that I had painfully wanted, but the classical stuff was all still bang on.
oursin: George Beresford photograph of the young Rebecca West in a large hat, overwritten 'Neither a doormat nor a prostitute' (Neither a doormat nor a prostitute)
[personal profile] oursin

Okay, my dearios, I am sure all dear rdrs are with me that tradwives are not trad, they are deploying an aesthetic loosely based on vague memories of the 1950s - and meedja representations at that - and some very creepy cultish behaviour - they are not returning to some lovely Nachral State -

And that as I bang on about a lot, women have been engaged in all kinds of economic activity THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE OF HISTORY since economic activity became A Thing.

Why tradwives aren’t trad: The housewife is a Victorian invention. History shows us women’s true economic power

I have a spot of nitpickery to apply - it rather skips over and elides the move from the household economy into factories e.g., leading to 'separate spheres' with wife stuck at home (and even that was a very blurry distinction, I mutter); and also the amount of exploitative homeworking undertaken by women of the lower classes (often to the detriment of any kind of 'good housekeeping').(Not saying middle-class women didn't also find ways of making a spot of moolah to eke out household budget.)

And of course a lot of tradwives are actually performing as economically productive influencers: TikTok tradwives: femininity, reproduction, and social media - in a tradition of women who made a very nice living out of telling other women how to be domestic goddesses, ahem ahem.

pegkerr: (That may be an encouraging thought)
[personal profile] pegkerr
Sometimes it's easy to pick what I'm going to do my collage about each week. Sometimes I have to scrounge around a bit for a subject.

There was a moment this week when I started mulling, "Well, what has this week been about?" and it occurred to me that at that exact moment, I was stirring my coffee with a sterling silver spoon.

I have inherited a significant amount of sterling silver from my grandparents, and my mom has passed along some of hers to me early. Even before that, I have often delighted in fine things that gave my life a luxurious touch. When the girls were young, I occasionally would serve what we called formal dinners, where we practiced eating with elaborate place settings and talked about proper manners.

I've been experiencing a bit of a cash flow issue lately. Nothing serious; I don't mean that I can't pay my bills, but with some recent medical and car repair expenses, I have had to cut back on some things. I've stopped eating out for the time being, and sometimes I have to wait a few days, until after pay day, to pick up the next set of groceries.

Recently, I decided to pull out a set of small sterling silver espresso coffee spoons I inherited from my grandmother. I went out looking for a lovely crystalline receptacle to keep them in on my counter by my coffee pot, and I found one, touched with gilding at the rim, at a vintage store, for $5. I bought a bottle of lavender syrup, and I will sometimes put a small amount in my coffee.

My sister bought me some luxury hand soap for my birthday, and I have decided that I like it so much better than the soft soap I had been picking up at the grocery store.

When the belt has to be tightened, it helps to indulge in a few small luxuries.

Image description: Background: A luxuriously painted vaulted ceiling at Versailles. Bottom center: a miniature sterling silver spoon rests on a counter. Behind it: a coffee cup with a small glass jar with more miniature silver spoons. Right: a bottle of lavender coffee syrup. Behind the coffee cup: a bottle of luxury hand soap and a house plant.

Little Luxuries

36 Little Luxuries

Click on the links to see the 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.

New Worlds: Foraging (and Pillaging)

Sep. 12th, 2025 05:02 pm
swan_tower: (Default)
[personal profile] swan_tower
The counterpart to the New Worlds Patreon's discussion of supply lines last week is "living off the land" -- usually meaning off the backs of the civilian population. Comment over there!

(originally posted at Swan Tower: https://is.gd/L27EmZ)

(no subject)

Sep. 12th, 2025 09:42 am
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] davidgillon and [personal profile] surexit!

If one year's back on my shoulder

Sep. 12th, 2025 03:26 am
sovay: (Sydney Carton)
[personal profile] sovay
Not having read any of the source novels, approximately twenty minutes into the first series of Poldark (1975–77) as I lay on the couch self-medicating with the late eighteenth century, I remarked to [personal profile] spatch, "Is there any aspect of this homecoming that is not going to be a clusterfuck?" on which the answer turned out to be no, whence it seems the engine of the plot. Since I came to this show by having to wait for the third season of Turn: Washington's Spies (2014–17) to arrive at my local branch library, I was more than ordinarily entertained by the line pertaining to the hero's soldiering past, "Shocking business, eh? Losing the Colonies." The bomber leather frock coat is as impressive as advertised.
sovay: (Rotwang)
[personal profile] sovay
This afternoon my godchild's school was locked down because one of the students had a gun and the nineteenth and twentieth monarchs of the summer hatched. What am I supposed to say about the day itself? That I am reminded even without the martial canonization of a never-laid grief that nothing is easier to shovel under six feet of lime than memory? The last cousin of my grandparents' generation died earlier this week at nearly a century. The lines to the past snap fast enough, no one needs to hurry them along.

On that note, Andrew Kozma's "The Black Death" (2025). I like that Ulysses S. Grant is top of the list of historical characters Jared Harris wants to play, in part because of his civil rights commitments as president and as a counterweight to his negative figuration in the mythos of the Lost Cause. I need a door in the hall closet to BFI Southbank if they are going to keep doing inaccessibly tantalizing series like last year's complete Powell and Pressburger or, currently, Anna May Wong.

Mingled yarn of life

Sep. 11th, 2025 08:20 pm
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin

Text today from my general practice to book Covid + flu jabs - actually in a months time, but I now have a slot booked.

***

Having been moaning on over at bluesky about scholars these days not acknowledging existing (older) historiography, Dept of Preening Gratification was coming across footnote cite to 30 year-old co-authored work as 'A key starting point' for certain 'productive considerations' within the field.

***

On the other prickly paw, I am still failing to get up to a proper swing at the essay review - keep niggling and picking at the bit I've already done.

Partly due to Interruptions happening.

Also partly due to not sleeping terribly well this week for some reason.

***

Discovered today that I had somehow acquired an ebook of recent work on subject I have had far too much to do with and had totally forgotten about it. Looking up an area of Mi Pertikler Xpertize, o dear, a number of niggling Errours.

***

Attended a webinar the other day where someone claimed that a certain class of records did not survive in respect of the lower orders on account They Could Not Write, and I was more, no, it's an issue of preservation, what about those postcards that I spoke about on a TV programme once - but that is such an annoying story, what DID happen to the cards after the filming? - apart from the flaunting of Being Meedja Personality, so decided not to raise my virtual hand.

redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
[personal profile] redbird
[personal profile] siderea points out that you probably have >a href="https://siderea.dreamwidth.org/1882720.html">"at least one underlying condition" for which the covid vaccine is (still) recommended by the US government, because most people do: the list includes being overweight, high blood pressure, depression, former smokers, and "physical inactivity." She speculates that the list may have been drafted to be as inclusive as possible, by someone who didn't have the authority to say "just give it to everyone."

The current official announcements, widely echoed, sounds as though most people can't get the vaccine, because the FDA is now being run by anti-vaxxers. That is almost certainly not an accident: if you think you can't have the vaccine, you won't ask for it.

Siderea also points out that even if you aren't on that list, a doctor can prescribe this, or almost any approved medication, to anyone they think it's appropriate for. In other contexts, this is what they mean by "off-label" use of a drug.

Note, however, that this may affect whether you have to pay for the vaccine yourself, rather than it being covered by insurance.

It has been pointed out elsewhere that you can always lie to them: nobody has a complete list of former smokers, for example.
wychwood: Atlantis seen under the curve of Earth's stargate (SGA - city exploring)
[personal profile] wychwood
Interminable September progresses. The next two weeks are going to be the especially busy parts, but I made fifteen portions of pasta (waiting for me in the freezer), started refusing any invitations to do anything whatsoever in September that isn't already in my calendar ("not even for your poor sick mother??" she said, and I said NO but how about the first weekend in October), and am as up together as I can manage (not terribly).

I'm also in full hibernation mode and doing nothing in my actual free time except read intensely and greedily (already finished one of the poll-winners). I haven't bought any more books since last week, though, so that's something. I'm going to bribe myself with volume 2 of Wayne Family Adventures when I survive the month, though.

(no subject)

Sep. 11th, 2025 09:40 am
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] daegaer and [personal profile] syderia!

(no subject)

Sep. 10th, 2025 04:02 pm
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly posting in [community profile] agonyaunt
Dear Annie: I met my husband three years ago, about eight months after he lost his first wife of 20 years. Their marriage was often toxic, and she was very abusive toward him. After she passed, he was ready to move on.

Right away, I knew something wasn't right with my husband. In his mid-50s, he was having short-term memory issues, falling frequently and struggling with his mental health. After seeing his health care provider and enrolling in the Veterans Affairs health care system, we discovered he had suffered multiple traumatic brain injuries during his time in the Army. That diagnosis led to him becoming a 100% service-connected disabled veteran and allowed him to receive the care he needed for a better quality of life.

His family, however, waged a war against me for helping him, accusing me of manipulating and "brainwashing" him. My husband has distanced himself from them, and we're no longer on speaking terms. My husband has a lot of anger toward them as he suffered for decades without their help or support.

His parents, who live in another state, are elderly and in poor health. I fear that if he doesn't reconcile with them before they pass, he will resent me. I love my husband with all my heart, and this has been a hard road. I just want the very best for him, unconditionally. Any advice? -- Wife on the Defensive


Read more... )

(no subject)

Sep. 10th, 2025 03:58 pm
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly posting in [community profile] agonyaunt
DEAR ABBY: My daughter, "Violet," lives about two hours away. She and her mother (my wife) do not get along. Violet was always a rebellious, independent wild child, as well as the source of a lot of family problems. Violet and I also were estranged until we recently reconciled.

Yesterday, she sent me an email inviting me to lunch to celebrate my birthday. When I told my wife about the invitation, she responded, "Do what you want" in a tone and with a facial expression which said: "Go ahead, but if you do, you'll be sorry."

I have tried to reconcile these two women I love without success. My wife tells me she loves Violet but doesn't like her, although she would like to have a better relationship with her. Violet tells me she blames her mother for her PTSD (her unofficial diagnosis) and wants nothing to do with her.

So do I go to lunch with my daughter and incur the wrath of my wife for what she would consider a betrayal, or do I decline the invitation from my daughter and risk alienating her again? -- IN THE MIDDLE IN NEW JERSEY


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Wednesday went for a walk in the rain

Sep. 10th, 2025 07:16 pm
oursin: Photograph of small impressionistic metal figurine seated reading a book (Reader)
[personal profile] oursin

What I read

Finished Love at All Ages - think I said most of what I felt moved to say last week, but there was also a certain amount of Mrs Morland whingeing and bitching about the Burdens of Being a Popular Writer (when she wasn't being Amazingly Dotty), whoa, Ange, biting the hand or what?

Sarah Brooks, The Cautious Traveller's Guide to the Wastelands (2024), which I picked up some while ago on promotion and then I think I saw someone writing something about it. I liked the idea but somehow wasn't overwhelmingly enthused?

Read the latest Literary Review.

Since there is a forthcoming online discussion, dug out my 1974 mass market paperback edition of Joanna Russ, The Female Man - I think this was even before excursions to Dark They Were and Golden-Eyed, somehow I had learnt of Fantast, a mailorder operation with duplicated catalogues every few months that purveyed an odd selection of US books. It's quite hard to recall the original impact. Possibly I now prefer her essays?

Carol Atherton, Reading Lessons: The Books We Read at School, the Conversations They Spark, and Why They Matter (2024) - EngLit teacher meditates over books that she had taught, her own reading of them, their impact in the classroom, general issues around teaching Lit, etc - this came up in my Recommended for You in Kobo + on promotion. Quite interesting but how the teaching of EngLit has changed since My Day....

Lee Child, The Hard Way (Jack Reacher, #10) (2006) - every so often I read an interview with or something about Lee Child who sounds very much a Good Guy so I thought I might try one of these and this one was currently on promotion. It's less action and more twisty following intricate plot than I anticipated with lots of sudden reversal, and lots and lots of details. I don't think I'm going to go away and devour all the Reacher books but I can think of circumstances where they might be a preferable option given limited reading materials available.

On the go

I literally just finished that so there is nothing on the go, except one or two things I suppose I am technically still reading.

Up next

Dunno.

sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey: passion)
[personal profile] sovay
It is my fifteenth anniversary with [personal profile] rushthatspeaks and I am spending it with various doctors instead of my husband and our traditional restaurant. We had a better wedding the first plague year.

(no subject)

Sep. 10th, 2025 01:34 pm
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly posting in [community profile] agonyaunt
Dear Eric: My beloved husband of more than 40 years has become something of an embarrassment. He has always been careful with his appearance (almost in the vain category). About six years ago, he had a serious illness with dangerous surgery but made an excellent recovery.

Afterward, his weight loss became a weight gain and now, instead of the athletic physique he has always maintained, he has a large gut. He will wear T-shirts that are too small and when seated, part of his naked middle is exposed for all to see.

I can tolerate this at home, but not when we are around other people. I have tried gentle reminders that these shirts are too small, mentioning how embarrassed I am, but it makes no difference. He also wears ill-fitting pants in his former waist size which exaggerate the problem.

Otherwise, he keeps up his lengthy morning regime of careful grooming as in the past. His doctors have suggested he lose weight, but nothing has changed. Can you offer any advice so we can socialize without me cringing?

– Loving But Mortified


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(no subject)

Sep. 10th, 2025 09:45 am
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] major_clanger!

Bonus Ross Gay poem

Sep. 9th, 2025 05:37 pm
radiantfracture: Beadwork bunny head (Default)
[personal profile] radiantfracture
Again
By Ross Gay

Because I love you, and beneath the uncountable stars
I have become the delicate piston threading itself through your chest,

I want to tell you a story I shouldn't but will and in the meantime neglect, Love,
the discordant melody spilling from my ears but attend,

instead, to this tale, for a river burns inside my mouth
and it wants both purgation and to eternally sip your thousand drippings;

and in the story is a dog and unnamed it leads to less heartbreak,
so name him Max, and in the story are neighborhood kids

who spin a yarn about Max like I'm singing to you, except they tell a child,
a boy who only moments earlier had been wending through sticker bushes

to pick juicy rubies, whose chin was, in fact, stained with them,
and combining in their story the big kids make

the boy who shall remain unnamed believe Max to be sick and rabid,
and say his limp and regular smell of piss are just two signs,

but the worst of it, they say, is that he'll likely find you in the night,
and the big kids do not giggle, and the boy does not giggle,

but lets the final berries in his hand drop into the overgrowth
at his feet, and if I spoke the dream of the unnamed boy

I fear my tongue would turn an arm of fire so I won't, but
know inside the boy's head grew a fire beneath the same stars

as you and I, Love, your leg between mine, the fine hairs
on your upper thigh nearly glistening in the night, and the boy,

the night, the incalculable mysteries as he sleeps with a stuffed animal
tucked beneath his chin and rolls tight against his brother

in their shared bed, who rolls away, and you know by now
there is no salve to quell his mind’s roaring machinery

and I shouldn't tell you, but I will,
the unnamed boy

on the third night of the dreams which harden his soft face
puts on pants and a sweatshirt and quietly takes the spade from the den

and more quietly leaves his house where upstairs his father lies dreamless,
and his mother bends her body into his,

and beneath these same stars, Love, which often, when I study them,
seem to recede like so many of the lies of light,

the boy walks to the yard where Max lives attached to a steel cable
spanning the lawn, and the boy brings hot dogs which he learned

from Tom & Jerry, and nearly urinating in his pants he tosses them
toward the quiet and crippled thing limping across the lawn,

the cable whispering above the dew-slick grass, and Max whimpers,
and the boy sees a wolf where stands this ratty

and sad and groveling dog and beneath these very stars
Max raises his head to look at the unnamed boy

with one glaucous eye nearly glued shut
and the other wet from the cool breeze and wheezing

Max catches the gaze of the boy who sees,
at last, the raw skin on the dog's flank, the quiver

of his spindly legs, and as Max bends his nose
to the franks the boy watches him struggle

to snatch the meat with gums, and bringing the shovel down
he bends to lift the meat to Max's toothless mouth,

and rubs the length of his throat and chin,
Max arching his neck with his eyes closed, now,

and licking the boy's round face, until the boy unchains the dog,
and stands, taking slow steps backward through the wet grass and feels,

for the first time in days, the breath in his lungs, which is cool,
and a little damp, spilling over his small lips, and he feels,

again, his feet beneath him, and the earth beneath them, and starlings
singing the morning in, and the somber movement of beetles

chewing the leaves of the white birch, glinting in the dark, and he notices,
Darling, an upturned nest beneath the tree, and flips it looking for the blue eggs

of robins, but finds none, and placing a rumpled crimson feather in his mouth
slips the spindly thicket into another tree, which he climbs

to watch the first hint of light glancing above the fields, and the boy
eventually returns to his thorny fruit bush where an occasional prick

leaves on his arm or leg a spot of blood the color of these raspberries
and tasting of salt, and filling his upturned shirt with them he beams

that he could pull from the earth that which might make you smile,
Love, which you’ll find in the fridge, on the bottom shelf, behind the milk,

in the bowl you made with your own lovely hands.

§rf§

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