#the short fiction round ups are superb

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch 4: Skating The Issue

Chapter Summary: It’s Fliss’ turn to host Frank and Mary and both adults seem to be skating round a particular issue…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

"Hey Cowgirl, how do you cook a skate?"

Fliss had to read the message twice "I'm assuming you’re talking about the fish..."

"No an ice skate..." the sarcasm dripped of his reply and she could just imagine him rolling his eyes.

"Where the fuck did u get an ice skate in South Pass?" she giggled to herself as she typed her response.

"R u deliberately being an ass?"

"Why did u get a skate when u don’t know how to cook one?"

"I don't know how to cook a lot of things. And there was a guy at the harbour giving them away. Extra catch he said. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth etc…"

Fliss pondered something for a moment before she leaned back in her chair and continued the conversation "Well why don't u bring them round tonight and I'll do them. I still haven't cooked for you after the BBQ the other week"

"Don’t worry, I haven't taken it to heart that every time we've tried to arrange it you've cancelled"

"Piss off!" She laughed to herself as she replied  "It’s this weather man, it's so hot... not my fault I've had to rejig all my lessons and exercise my own horses at 9pm... you've been busy too don't forget!"

"Busy time of year for Sailing, what can I say? As it happens I can do tonight but I'll have Mary. Is that ok?"

"No, Frank I expect you to leave her at home on her own... "

“Trust me if I could I would, she’s driving me insane at the moment.”

“Why?” Fliss frowned slightly as she hit send. Whilst she hadn’t really seen Frank other than the previous week for Mary’s riding lesson they talked often by text and he hadn’t mentioned she was playing up. And then she suddenly realised. It was the last Saturday of the Summer holidays. Mary started school on Monday. And she had already made her feelings about that very clear to Fliss, several times.

“I’ll explain later. What time?”

Fliss checked her watch. It was 4pm.

"Say 6 ish? I'll send you the post...I mean zip code...why the fuck do you lot call it a zip code anyway?"

"Stands for Zone Improvement Plan"

"That makes no sense"

"Course it does. Zip, its fast, as in the mail travels more efficiently, and more quickly when people use it"

"And you wonder why Mary is such a smart ass!"

"Whatever, see you at 6."

"Bye Sailor."

Standing up she slipped her phone into the back pocket of her riding breeches and headed out onto the main yard. It was empty. The weather had been scorching recently, so hot she had been forced to cancel a lot of lessons and offer something different to her students. She had been taking the younger kids on trail rides through the grounds that surrounded her yard and onto the waterside and then taught them basic horse care and grooming routines, whilst the older clients who wanted to continue their training had moved their sessions to earlier or later in the day. That said, she had no one left to teach today and she was giving her own 3 a rest so it was a case of making sure waters in the fields were topped up ready for evening turn out.

Thor was flopped in the shade of one of the stables, flat on his side. He cracked an eye open as she passed and his tail lazily thumped on the floor. “Oh boy…I know it’s hot…” she said with a chuckle, bending over to give him a scratch before she stood up and he did the same, trotting obediently at her heels as she headed through the gate and down the dirt tracks which led to the turn out paddock. Joanne, Ruby and Ellis her head groom and stable hands were busy with the water truck topping up the troughs in the bottom field.

“Hey guys.” she smiled “All ok?”

“Yeah,” Joanne nodded “We’ve topped all the others up, this is the last one.”  

“Great, ok well let’s get them fed and then we can get them turned out and have an early finish.” Fliss smiled. “Ruby, Ellis, keep an eye on the water.”

The girl and boy nodded and then Fliss and Joanne headed back towards the yard.

“So, you doing anything tonight?” Joanne asked.

“Oh, erm, Mary and Frank are coming over for dinner.” Fliss said

“As in Mary and Frank Adler?” Joanne looked at Fliss.“God he is dreamy. Total fuck boy though.”

Fliss laughed, “So you told me. He’s a nice guy though, I enjoy talking to him.”

“Talking?” Joanne deadpanned “Seriously, you’ve got a sure thing there and you’re talking?”

Fliss snorted “Trust me I’m not looking for anything else, certainly not at the moment.”

“Yeah well, you never find anything when you’re looking for it do you?” Joanne said lightly as they walked into the feed store. “It’s always when you’re not that you come across it.”

Fliss looked at her for a moment. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to Frank, she’d have to be blind not to be. But she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t feel ready for a relationship just yet and it would have to take someone very special to change her mind. With a sigh she jerked her head in the direction of the containers which held the horse feed.

“Start scooping that lot out.”

Joanne did as she was told and a little over an hour later everything was turned out, fed and she made sure the staff knew who was on duty in the morning. With that she dismissed them early and set off to the store grabbing the ingredients she needed.

***** “Woah!” Mary said as Frank pulled up outside the gates “Does Fliss live here?”

“According to the directions…” Frank raised his eyebrows. He pulled out his phone and gave her a call.

“Hi, you at the gates?” she asked.

“I think so…”

“Ok hang on…” she instructed and Frank waited. A few seconds later the iron gates swung inwards. “Drive past the main house on your right and keep coming until the drive bends round. The annex is to the left behind the garage. Door’s open, just come on in.”

Frank took a deep breath and headed through the gate. Mary was looking out of the window at the large villa style house as they passed, her mouth hanging open. Bill emerged from the double garage to the left and Frank smiled at him, halting the truck.

“Alright lad?” Bill said, leaning on the top of the truck, talking through the open window. “Hey kid.”

“Hi Mr Gallagher.” Mary beamed. “We’re off to Fliss’ for dinner.”

“It’s Bill, Mary, my dad was Mr Gallagher. And you’re a lucky girl, Fliss’ cooking is superb!”

“Anything is better than Frank’s.” she informed him and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Mine too. I burn water.” Bill chuckled.

“You can’t do that.” Mary frowned, “It just evaporates.”

“It’s a figure of speech Mary, you know, a joke…” Frank looked at her shaking his head as Bill laughed.

“Well I’ll let you go.” he smiled, “Straight down the drive. Have a good evening.”

He straightened up and whistled, calling a small terrier to his heels before he headed over to a gate at the side. As he opened it, Frank just caught a glimpse of a spacious back yard and a pool before the gate snapped closed. Setting the truck forward again, he followed the drive and it turned left just before the fence, opening up into a space behind the garage where the small annex was set. It was a little detached, 2 storey building that was a similar style to the villa with a wooden door and a large bay window. The door was open and as Frank climbed out of the truck, the wrapped paper package of skate in his hand, Thor came bounding outside barking excitedly.

“Hey boy.” he said, giving the dog a pat before Thor turned his attention to Mary.

“Found it ok then?”

Frank looked up to see Fliss in the doorway. She was dressed in a pair of denim shorts that finished halfway up her toned thighs and a tight grey T-shirt which was distressed around the sleeves. Her hair was fastened back in a loose braid and she was barefoot. Frank felt a certain, and very unwelcome, pooling of arousal in the base of his stomach. Swallowing slightly he composed himself and smiled at her.

“Nice place.”

“Well the rents got a fair whack when they sold up in the UK so…” she shrugged “Sadly it’s not mine!”

He smiled, “This doesn’t look so bad.”

“Suits me, for the time being anyway until I can get my own place.” she smiled “We’re in the middle of re-decorating it so there’s stuff all over the dining room. We’ll eat outside if that’s ok?”

“Sure.” Frank smiled.

Fliss gave a sharp whistle and Thor immediately headed back towards her and into the house as Mary followed, pausing to give Fliss a hug. She led them inside and Frank looked around, the small porch area led into a square living room with a wooden floor which sported a large, light blue fluffy rug and a coffee table in the middle. There was a grey and black L-shaped sofa which ran along one wall and jutted out slightly around the edge of the coffee table and a huge flat screen TV and entertainment system nestled in the other corner which was surrounded by a huge rack of DVDs. On the wall above the sofa was a large framed photograph of Fliss with a chestnut horse, giving it a kiss on the nose, smiling as she did so, sunglasses covering her eyes. There were various other family shots in frames on other walls too. Taking it all in, Frank followed Fliss through an archway into the tiled dining room, which held a table against one wall and a display cabinet against the other which was full of trophies and rosettes. The walls were stripped bare and just as Fliss said there was a pile of decorating equipment sat in the corner. To the right a staircase headed upstairs and in front of them were double butler doors which led into the small country style kitchen. The rear doors were open onto a small flagged yard which sported a decking area upon which sat a table and some chairs. Various pot plants were scattered around the yard area and there was a wicker sofa and chair set with a smaller table and a hot tub nestled into the corner of the fence and the wall, under the kitchen windows.

“This is an annex?” Frank deadpanned looking around. Fliss turned to him, blushing slightly.

“I know, I’m very lucky.” she shrugged. “It’s as good as having my own place.”

“It’s really cool” Mary hummed “Can I go outside?”

“Knock yourself out.” Fliss said as Mary disappeared into the yard, Thor following. “So, where’s this fish?”

Frank dropped the package onto the side and Fliss peeled the paper open.

“Oooh they look great!” She grinned. “So I’m gonna pan fry them with some lemon, garlic and then I’ve done some potatoes and salad…nothing fancy but…”

“Sounds good.” Frank nodded.

“Is there anything Mary doesn’t like?”

“Tomatoes.” Frank said “I mean if they’re in a sauce of pasta she’s fine but…”

“Devil veg.” Fliss wrinkled her nose.

“Actually they’re a fruit.” Frank teased as she looked at him.

“You ever seen a tomato in a fruit salad?” she shot back, reaching around him to open the large fridge.

He laughed and moved out of her way “That’s exactly the reply Mary gives me.”

“Like I said, smart kid.” Fliss grabbed two beers before bumping the fridge door shut with her hip. She opened a drawer and grabbed a bottle opener, flipping off the cap before handing one to Frank.

“Thanks. So, is there anything I can do to help or…”

“No, everything’s done bar the fish so…” she shook her head “Stand and watch Sailor, you might learn something.”

He stood leaning against the counter as she worked, settling into comfortable chat, watching as she cleaned, skinned and filleted the fish before squeezing fresh lemon over it and tossing it into a hot pan with a few cloves of garlic.

“It doesn’t take long” she said, “Do you wanna grab me a few plates?”

“Sure.” he nodded, “err…”

“Cupboard behind you, to the right.” she said over her shoulder as she pulled a salad out of the fridge and drizzled it lightly with a mixture of balsamic, oil and lemon. She did the same with the cold potatoes before she turned the heat off the stove and divided the fish up into 2 larger pieces and a smaller one for Mary.

She gently slid the slices onto the plates and then she nodded. “All done.”

“Well that looked easy.” Frank said

“You can try it yourself next time.” she looked at him, handing him the two bowls “Can you take those out the table?”

He picked them up easily and carried them outside, Mary instantly scrambling up from where she had been sat on the outside sofa with Thor and following him.

Fliss walked out with the plates which contained the fish and they all settled down, Frank placing some potatoes and salad onto Mary’s plate before doing the same for Fliss as she headed back inside for 2 more beers and an apple juice for Mary.

“This is really good!” the seven year old enthused.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful.” Frank looked at her and she gave him a filthy scowl which made Fliss laugh.

“She looks a bit like you when she does that.”

“I do not.” Mary replied indignantly.

Fliss merely smiled as she stabbed another potato and popped it into her mouth “Whatever you say.”

Mary shot her another look which earned her one back from Frank. She met his eyes with her own and gave a shrug, diving back into her food.

“Fred would like this.” she said, looking at her fish.

“Good job because I saved him the scraps.” Fliss said.

“Did you?” Mary looked at her, smiling. Fliss nodded.

Frank watched the easy exchange between the two, smiling softly. Mary had been in a foul mood all afternoon after he had taken her shopping for a few outfits for School. She had been kicking off about the fact she had to go on Monday, but he was sticking to his decision. She needed to go, be a kid, have a normal life.

“You alright?” Fliss looked at him and he nodded

“Yeah, just thinking that’s all.” he said, “Nothing serious.”

Fliss accepted his answer, even though she didn’t believe him and she changed the subject, telling Mary about a few of the things she had planned for her next riding lesson which wasn’t for another 10 days seeing as she had been for one the Saturday before.

“Can I come this Saturday?” she pleaded.

“Mary��” Frank sighed “We discussed this, once a fortnight…”

Mary scowled again and Frank let out a groan.

“Well, if it’s okay with Frank you could come up later in the day and help me with my three.” Fliss said, looking at him. “You can help Joanne with the poles on the jumps and the feeds.”

“Oh, please Frank can I?”

Frank looked at Mary then to Fliss “You sure?”

Fliss nodded “Course”

“Alright.” Frank nodded “But one more tantrum about school between then and now and you’re not going understood?”

Mary pouted a little, clearly considering this bargain before she sighed “Okay.”

When they had finished eating Frank helped Fliss clear down the table. She told him to drop the dished into the sink whilst she placed the left over salad into tubs and back in the fridge.

“So School still a sore subject?” She queried.

“Oh fuck me…” Frank sighed “Sore?” he rubbed at his temple “Monday is gonna be a nightmare.”

“She’ll get used to it.” Fliss said “She’s bound to feel a little put out a first but she’ll settle.”

“I just hope I’m doing the right thing” Frank let out a deep breath.

“You can’t do anything but your best, Frank. That’s all any of us can do.”

“Yeah, suppose.” he shrugged. “Anyway, enough about that…been meaning to ask, how’s it been with shuffling all the lessons around?”

“We’ve managed.” Fliss shrugged, heading back outside “takings are down but…well, you always get peaks and troughs.”

“Tell me about it. Boat work slows up a lot November through January.” Frank shrugged.

“You should branch out into tractor fixing.” Fliss said, settling onto the sofa next to Mary who was busy flicking through a book she had brought. Fliss glanced down and grinned “Moby Dick?”

“Yeah…” Mary looked at her “You read it?”

“A while back. I used to read a lot.”

“What’s your favourite book?” Mary asked.

“Honestly?” Fliss smiled “It’s Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire.”

“Isn’t that for kids?”

“Mary…” Frank groaned “You are a kid.”

“Fliss isn’t” Mary shot back.

“No but I was when those books were released. The first one came out in 1997, I was only 13. I grew up reading them.”

Mary contemplated this. “And they’re good?”

“Yeah.” Fliss smiled “I love Harry Potter. That’s what this is…”

She pointed to the tattoo which circled her left ankle Frank glanced down at the writing, which curved around and then formed into the outline of a stag’s head on her Achilles tendon. It was quite a delicate design. Mary studied it carefully.

“Expecto Patronum…” she said, reading it out “What does that mean?”

“It’s a spell.” Fliss told her, “So in one of the books Harry has to cast it to protect himself from these creatures…and his Patonus, the thing the spell conjures, takes the form of a stag. The writing, see…” Fliss traced it with her finger “That’s the author, JK Rowling’s handwriting. I had it done a year ago, kind of a reminder to me that no matter how bad things get there’s always a way to make it better.”

Mary nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll read them then.”

“Do you want to borrow the first one?” Fliss asked “And then once you’ve done maybe one night we can watch the movie.”

“Please.” Mary nodded.

Fliss stood up and nodded for Mary to follow so she did. “be right back.”

Frank waved them away and Fliss led Mary upstairs into the spare room. It was still full of boxes, some which littered the bottom of the bunk beds. She dug into a box, found the book, and handed it to Mary. Mary took it gently and examined the cover.

“Thank you. I’ll take good care of it I promise.” Mary nodded “Can I see your bedroom?”

Fliss laughed and nodded “Sure.”  she led her across the hall into the larger bedroom and let Mary walk in and look round at the airy room, glancing at the bed which was made and adorned with a light blue and yellow bed spread and a few cushions.

“It’s tidier than Franks.” Mary mused and Fliss laughed.

“I’m a girl.” she shrugged. “We’re always tidier than men.”

“Is that you?” Mary asked, striding over to a photo that was on the bedside table.

Fliss nodded as Mary looked at the frame, which contained a shot of her and her parents with her brother.

“That’s my brother Steeb…I mean Steve.”

“Steeb?” Mary looked up.

“When I was a little girl I couldn’t pronounce his name properly.” Fliss explained “I called him Steeb, or Steeby…it just kinda stuck.”

Mary gave a snort of laughter as she placed the frame down and Fliss waited until she finished looking around before she headed for the door. They made their way back down the stairs and outside, where Frank was looking at something on his phone. He looked up at them as they walked back through the bi-folding doors.

“Did you say thanks?”

“She did.” Fliss nodded.

“Good.” Frank nodded. He took a sigh and looked at Fliss “I don’t wanna rush out but it is getting kinda late and someone will be a crank if they don’t get to bed soon.”

“Yeah he’s always grumpy if he doesn’t get enough sleep.” Mary quipped and Frank shook his head with a huff of laughter as Fliss giggled.

They all made their way inside and Fliss retrieved the wrapped up fish scraps for Fred which Frank took, his fingers gently brushing against hers which again sparked that damned fire in his belly. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Fliss merely smiled at the contact and turned to Mary “So remember, no being a pain in the bum about school or…”

“Yeah yeah I know…” she shrugged.

“Something tells me she isn’t gonna pay a blind bit of notice.” Fliss said, watching as she bounded to the truck.

“Nope.” Frank agreed, shaking his head. “Thanks for dinner Fliss, it was great.”

“Not a problem, if you’re happy to play hunter gatherer I’m always happy to cook.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” he smiled at her, and after a seconds hesitation he leaned down and pecked her on the cheek. “See you Saturday.”

She smiled and watched him head down to his truck where he paused and looked back at her, giving her another smile which spread across his handsome face and Fliss felt the butterflies in her stomach stirring in the way they always seemed to do whenever he looked at her. Tossing him a wave she watched them go before she shut the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath.

“Stop chasing rainbows Lissy…” she muttered to herself, before she headed for a glass of wine and her latest book before retreating outside for the rest of her evening.

******

Surprisingly Mary kept most of her vitriol about going to school at bay, something Frank knew was down to the promise of visiting the yard. There was the odd grumble, which he shut down fairly easily. He had no illusions about the fact it would no doubt start in earnest on Sunday but for now he was simply happy to have a reprieve from the subject she had been complaining about for the past few weeks.

Seeing as she kept up her side of the bargain, he kept his. Fliss was more than happy to see them, and if he was completely honest, Frank was happy to see her as well. They talked to each other by text every single night now, it had just become a habit more than anything. And a habit he was happy to indulge.

They arrived at the yard a little after 5pm and Fliss was already on board a large, black horse with 4 white socks and a white blaze. She waved in acknowledgement but as they made their way to the paddock to watch, the horse gave a sudden sharp kick with its back left before stopping dead and launching its ass into the air. For a moment he thought Fliss was going to come unseated but she merely smirked and sat back, giving the horse a quick kick on. It moved a few steps and repeated the move.

"Give up you little shit..." he heard Fliss mumble and he bit back a snort as there was nothing little about the brute she was on.

She kicked again, but this time nothing, and the horse threw both its front legs up in a rear. Frank swallowed, as Fliss stood up in her stirrups throwing her reins forward before the animal landed down and she gave it a sharp tap with her stick. At that it moved forward a few steps and Fliss gently encouraged it to continue with a little squeeze of her legs.

"No worse than normal..." she said to Joanne who was grinning at the horse’s antics.

"He’s an ass..." Joanne laughed "you would think he'd learn he never gets away with it..."

"That's...that's normal?" Frank sputtered out and Fliss who had just struck the horse up into trot laughed.

"Yip" she called out, moving the horse on down the long side of the arena "He likes to fart about does Bronson"

Fliss warmed the horse in and then gestured to Mary to come into the paddock. She climbed the fence and sprinted over to where Joanne was.

“Ok so Joanne is now going to put out some poles…see.” Fliss looked down at her from her vantage point aboard the tall, black gelding. “The ones before and after the jump wings are take-off and landing poles. They are to help him and me figure out where he needs to be taking off and landing.”

Mary nodded eagerly

“Not all horses need them, but Bronson is still learning so it helps him to understand.”

Frank simply stood watching as Joanne directed Mary to help her set out the lightweight, brightly coloured pole before Joanne looked at Fliss and asked her something. Fliss nodded and Joanne set up a small cross-pole. Fliss circled the horse and sent it at the fence, Bronson hardly leaving the ground the fence was that low.

“Stick it up a foot!” Fliss called as she circled.

The fence was put up and Frank noticed Mary was watching every movement with utter rapt attention. She tugged on Joanne’s sleeve who turned to her and she pointed at the jump and Joanne nodded. Fliss sailed the horse over the next one and it was put up again.

This practice continued until one time the horse slammed on at the fence and skidded to a halt. Fliss fell onto the horse’s neck and Frank felt his heart stop but she didn’t fall. Instead she shuffled back onto the saddle, turned him and sent him straight back at the jump. This time he didn’t stop.

“So do you know what happened there?” he heard Fliss ask. Mary shook her head. “So his striding was off. He was trying to rush and I asked him to sit up and pay attention, because of that he got confused so he wasn’t right to take off when I needed him to. That’s why he stopped.” “So he wasn’t being naughty?” Mary asked.

“Nope.” Fliss shook her head. “Genuine mistake. See he’s only five so he’s a baby really, not like Cap who could jump a course with his eyes closed.”

“Cap?” Frank looked at her, and she turned to him. “Seriously, you have a dog called Thor and a horse called Cap?”

Fliss grinned “His full name is Captain Chaos…he was already named that when I got him but it fits my Marvel obsession perfectly.”

He shook his head with a smile and watched as this time the jump was higher again. Joanne moved Mary to stand under it, to show her how high it was and Mary’s eyes grew wide and she looked at Frank. He gave her a thumbs up and she moved out of the way as Fliss brought Bronson down again. The horse took off but clipped the pole with his front legs, knocking it down.

“That was because he didn’t pick his feet up enough…” Fliss called as she circled back round, coming again. “He’ll do it this time, watch…”

And he did. Fliss repeated the jump 3 times and Frank couldn’t help but marvel at how in tune with the animal she was. It was like they were working as a unit, she made it look effortlessly graceful, her hands and legs moving in coordination as she folded with the horse, as if jumping over a meter off the floor on the back of a half-tonne animal was the most natural thing in the world to do. The mere thought of it scared the crap out of Frank.

After the third clear jump, Fliss nodded to Joanne and slowed the horse down, letting him stretch.

“Always end on a good note” she grinned at Mary as she patted the horse. Frank could see Mary was thinking something and with that she nodded to Mary and rode the horse over to Frank.

“She wants to sit on him…” She looked at Frank “Is that ok?”

Frank swallowed “Isn’t he a bit…big?” he asked.

“Yeah but he’ll behave now…he’s knackered…tired…” she corrected her English slang. “She can sit up here with me if you’re comfortable with it?”

Frank bit his lip. “Are you sure he will be ok?”

“Trust me Sailor, I wouldn’t let her up here if I wasn’t convinced I could keep her safe…” Fliss said, removing her hat. She passed it down to Mary “Put that on and I don’t EVER want to see you on a horse without one, ok…do as I say not as I do.”

“Frank says that to me all the time…” Mary took Fliss hat and clipped it on. It was a little big but would do the trick.

“Sound advice…” Fliss grinned. “You wanna lift her up?”

Frank nodded and scaled over the fence, lifting Mary easily by the waist. He passed her up and she swung one leg either side of the saddle and gave a gasp.

“I’m so high!”

“Yup!” Fliss grinned, shifting back so Mary could settle in front of her  “Ok, hands on this strap…” she indicate to the leather line around the horses neck “I call this my Oh sh-I mean, Oh No Strap…” she said “If anything goes wrong I can grab it and hold on.”

“You can say the word…” Mary looked up at her “Frank does.”

“Stop tattle telling.” Frank sighed.

Fliss laughed and gently nudged the horse on and walked it around a few laps before changing direction and repeating. Frank spotted Joanne was putting the jump wings away so he went to help and the girl beamed at him as she directed him to where they were stored by the hay barn. By the time they had finished Fliss and Mary were stood by the gate.

“You ready to get down?” Frank asked. Mary nodded so he reached up and gently aided her off the horse before Fliss dismounted.

“Wanna lead him in?” she looked at Mary, taking the horse’s reins and moving them over his head. Mary nodded and Fliss let her lead, all the time remaining nearby. This time they didn’t head into the main barn they walked further round to a smaller private block of 4 stables.

“So these are mine.” Fliss said. “That’s Cap…” she pointed to a large black and white horse, “And this is Heidi…”

Frank stopped in front of the large chestnut mare who looked at him before snorting. He jumped back and Mary laughed as Joanne took Bronson off Mary and led him into one of the stables.

“Yeah she’s a bit particular…” Fliss teased “But she’s my pride and joy. Had her since I was 16.”

“Is she the one you did the Olympics on?”

“No.” Fliss said, “That wasn’t my horse. It was a sponsor’s. Heidi was my competition horse before I started training for the Olympics but I couldn’t part with her. I’ve had her since she was 4 and she’ll be 21 this year.”

“Do you still ride her?” Mary asked, reaching up to stroke the mare’s head.

“Yeah.” Fliss said “She can still jump and work…not as hard but it’s important to keep them going. She’s my baby…”

The mare leaned over to nuzzle at Fliss and almost as if he could sense it, Thor appeared and walked into the middle of them, sitting down, nudging Fliss with his nose.

“And you of course…” Fliss grinned, patting the dog.

They headed back out into the yard and Joanne took Mary to the feed room so she could help whilst Fliss carried the tack back to the room.

“Here…” Frank offered as she was juggling the saddle around so she could tap in the code. She handed it over with a smile before opening the door and directing him to the racks. “Thanks.”

“Least I can do.” Frank smiled, dusting his hands down on his jeans “Thanks for this.”

“For what?”

“Letting Mary come tonight.”

“It’s no problem, she’s never any trouble.”

“No, she just asks a lot of questions…” Frank snorted as they walked out to see Mary was now carrying buckets to the horses to feed them.

“I don’t mind. Questions are great, shows they care and want to learn…” Fliss spoke over her shoulder as she moved to take 3 buckets into the barn for her own horses.

“Still it takes a lot of patience.” Frank smiled.

Fliss scoffed “Mary is nothing, you ain’t met my brother’s kids.”

“I’d like to meet them.” Mary chipped up and Frank looked at her, holding his hands out in a ‘what?’ gesture.

“You want to meet other kids?” he looked at her “You spent half the last fortnight ranting about not wanting to go to school!”

Mary scowled in response, giving him a filthy look.

“You two really need to work on your communication.” Fliss looked between the pair of them as they stood facing off in the yard.

“We do communicate.” Mary shot back, and Fliss gave a hmmm as the girl continued “He just doesn’t listen.”

“Well I’ve decided to ignore dumb remarks.” Frank shot back, adjusting his shades

“Passive aggression is just childish, Frank.” Mary shrugged and he shook his head, looking at Fliss.

“I literally…” he trailed off with a sigh “See what I mean?”

Fliss chuckled as she watched Mary moving over to speak to Joanne about something. “She makes me laugh.”

“Glad she amuses you.” Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Well it’s funny watching you get out smarted by a 7 year old, what can I say?” Fliss smirked.

“You know I really wish I could deny that, but…” Frank sighed as he walked towards Mary, dropping a hand on her shoulder “Right, time to go short stack…”

“Oh, oh one more question?” Mary looked up at Fliss.

“Ask and walk…” Frank instructed her, giving her a gentle push “What do you say to Joanne?”

“Thank you!” Mary looked at her.

“Any time kid!” Joanne said as the 3 of them made their way to the parking lot.

“So what was the question?” Fliss said as they walked.

“Oh, right so I was watching a video…and they were doing side saddle…have you ever done that?”

“Yeah.” Fliss nodded, stopping by Frank’s truck “I did it on Heidi when I was a lot younger. Didn’t like it though. I prefer a leg on each side…”

There was a pause as she realised what she had said and flashed bright red as Frank let out a huge bellow of a laugh, as she gave an adorably embarrassed groan and hid her face in her hands.

“Oh god…” she groaned out “That…I didn’t mean…”

“Course you didn’t” Frank teased between his laughs and she punched him lightly on the arm.

“I don’t…I don’t get it?” Mary asked, looking up.

“Tell you when you’re older.” Frank said, “In…” he pointed to the truck.

Mary gave an exasperated groan “You always say that. You know I AM Seven!”

“Going on seventy…” Frank grumbled as she opened the door to the truck. He looked at Fliss and pushed his glasses up on top of his head so could see her properly. “Thank you, again.”

“Like I said, any time…” Fliss nodded, before a wicked smirk crossed her face “Next time she can sit on and jump with me.”

“Over my dead body.” Frank levelled her with a look, making her grin even more.

“Not even a little one?”

Frank rolled his eyes “Now I know why you two get on so well. Both a pain in my ass.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it Sailor!” She teased and he grinned.

“Well it kinda lightens up my day a little so…”

He trailed off and looked at her, and she blushed a little, tucking a stray strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. He couldn’t help but feel a little pleased at her bashful reaction. “Anyway I better…”

“Yeah, sure…” she nodded, “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, you will.” he said “I’ll probably fire out an SOS tomorrow night when she’s kicking off about school.”

“Well you know where I am.” Fliss said, genuinely “And I mean that. If you wanna talk or anything just…”

“I will, thanks Lissy.”

There was a moment’s pause and Fliss could tell Frank was inwardly cursing himself for the slip of his tongue, using the nickname her dad had for her. But instead of correcting him she simply smiled, because, if she was honest, she kinda liked hearing it from him.

“Anytime, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

He climbed into his truck and watched as she headed back to the yard, looking back once with a smile.

“Roberta says you and Fliss would make great babies.” Mary said and Frank jolted slightly and looked at her.

“What?” he spluttered “Why would…”

“Good genes she says.” Mary shrugged and sat back in the seat.

“Roberta needs to shut up.” Frank shook his head as he put the truck into gear “Jesus Christ.”

**** Chapter 5

[ohveda]

The Terror - season 1 review

I have paused in my frantic gif reblogging to finally write out my thoughts on the Terror and why I enjoyed it so much.

The first season of The Terror tells the story of the tragic Franklin expedition. This was a British arctic expedition in the late 1840s, led by Sir John Franklin, which had the aim of finding the North West Passage. The expedition was comprised of two ships, Erebus and Terror, hence the name of the show. It was tragic because everyone died (this is not a spoiler). The circumstances as to how everyone died are still mysterious to this day and there is lots of speculation (although a cursory glance at wikipedia suggests that people are building up some theories).

So, this is a TV show where you know from the outset that it is going to end tragically: everyone you get to know is going to die, and the only question is exactly how. And this is why, despite how much I enjoyed it, I wouldn't recommend the show to everyone. It is not so much scary as it is harrowing: there is gore, there is a monster, and there are disturbing scenes. I finished watching it a day and a half ago and I do not yet feel like I have recovered mentally from what I have seen (give me a few more days and I will be fine). You guys out there will know your tv-watching habits; if you don't like stories that are scary, depressing or dark, this show is not for you. However, if you don't mind watching those themes then I absolutely recommend this show whole-heartedly. It is incredibly incredibly good.

Here is the trailer: https://youtu.be/3WLz6wxEabc

The rest of my review might contain mild spoilers, so I'm going to put it under a cut.

There are several things I love about the show. From the first glance it looks fantastic; you can tell that there was money behind the production. The sets and the setting are lush with atmosphere and historic detail; it really feels like care has been taken (not that I know enough about naval history to assess accuracy, but the little bits I do know felt very right). And those coats! If you know me you will know that I go crazy for well-fitted double-breasted coats with bright buttons. I WAS IN MY ELEMENT HERE.

The acting! You can't fault it. Everyone does a superb job and I think one of the reasons the story works so well is just how compelling everyone is.

But my absolute absolute favourite thing about the show is the writing. I am in ecstasies over how well it was written. It's the best period drama I have seen since 2014. The show is based on a book of the same name, so doubtless many good things from the show come from the book, but I have heard some not-entirely-great things about the book too, so I get the feeling that while the good characters and interesting plot may come from the book, the technical skill that makes the show truly rewarding and compelling comes from the show's writers.

The main thing that they get so right is exposition. It's tricky to do well in any piece of fiction, but it is particularly hard in historical fiction when there is always so much to explain. It seems that often the urge with historical fiction is to explain too much and too frequently, to the point where every line loses its poignancy because it's immediately followed by an explanation of why that line is poignant (Poldark, I am looking at you). The Terror does not fall into that trap at all. Things are not explained; the audience's hand is not held; and the viewer is treated like an intelligent person who can come to their own conclusions. This does, admittedly, lead to some parts where I didn't actually know exactly what happened until I read up about them after I finished the show, but this haziness in certain areas does not detract from the watching experience in any way. The writing is good enough that the viewer always knows the key points of what is happening and what that means for the plot (there is never a feeling of being lost and confused), and the fact that you can get an extra level of detail and interest the more you look into it is an additional joy.

When it comes to how good the exposition is, let us take scurvy as an example. Scurvy is mentioned a lot in the first episode, but not anywhere in that episode is it described. In a lesser show, as soon as scurvy is mentioned the first time, someone would say "oh, you mean the disease where your gums bleed and your old wounds open up?" In The Terror this information is not given in the first episode because it's not needed in the first episode. The information is not actually given until after the first symptoms start to show, and even then it's given in an offhand and believable comment that doesn't feel intrusive at all. This means that for viewers who already knew the symptoms of scurvy, it's not jarring in any way, while viewers who don't know the symptoms of scurvy get a wonderful reveal of what has been happening and are now prepared for what is yet to come.

Augh! It's just done so well! I absolutely can't stand it when TV shows talk down to me, whereas I love it when they treat me as a capable adult who is able to put the clues together by myself.

And then we come to the plot. Going from the trailer, and seeing how high the production values were, I had assumed that the plot would have a level of, what to call it, sensationalism? Hollywood-ness? I was expecting it to be more spectacle and less substance. I was ready for jump-scares and plot-twists and set-pieces, and they didn't come, not really, not in the way I was expecting. There was only one part in the final episode where things veered towards melodrama that was too ridiculous to believe. The rest of the plot is not ridiculous nor is it fluffy nor empty; it feels solid: the pacing works and each plot point follows on from one to another. This is not a show where an unsubstantiated plot twist is thrown into the mix for surprise value (looking at you, BBC 2020 Dracula); this is a show where the hard graft of writing is done, to make sure that the plot is built from the ground up so that the audience can follow it and believe in its progression, regardless of how unbelievable the actual events may seem to be.

One of the main reasons for why this plot progression works so well is that it is almost entirely character-driven. Oh yes, there are events from outside that affect the characters and what happens to them, but the bulk of the plot is driven by the characters and their choices. What is it about character-driven fiction that makes it so satisfying? Certainly stories can and do work without being character-driven, but there's something so good about having a character you can get your teeth into: a character who is a person, with likes and dislikes, and good parts and foibles; a character you get to know and care about. The characters in this story are not mere window-dressing; they drive the plot, and you both love them and hate them for it.

Now, take that well-written, rounded, satisfying character, and multiply them by thirty. This is an ensemble cast and boy does it feel like it! I'm frankly astounded by how many fully-thought-out characters there were. It's not like there are five main characters and the rest are all cannon-fodder. Each character we meet has their own story to tell. There are characters in the first episode who feel like extras, but who come to have important and complex parts as the story moves on. Even as we come to the final episodes there are characters whose significance only then begins to show.

This multitude of characters is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it makes for a story that is rich, rewarding and realistic. But a curse because it is impossible to learn all those names and tell all those people apart. They all look the same! Is that character A in the navy blue coat with the big mutton chops? Or is that character B? I've watched the entire series and for a lot of the characters I still don't know! But this confusion doesn't detract from the enjoyment of the show. Just like the exposition, learning more about certain characters (which is where I think a rewatch would help) will add another layer of interest, but without that it is still easy to follow the main parts of the plot. There are certain main characters who you do come to recognise and to know, and this is enough; the other characters, each with their own richness, even if you don't know it yet, are an extra treat for those viewers who want to watch again and dig into the story a little more.

I won't say that the story is without its faults. I would like to ask the show-makers why apparently all British sailors in Victorian times were white??? And why did the cgi monster have to look like that??? But there aren't enough faults to truly detract from how enjoyable the show is.

Look at me here, trying to be all serious, making points with words, instead of just howling like I want to. What I haven't mentioned yet is how this show consumed me. I ate it up! I watched an episode per day (the short length of the show, being only ten episodes, is another reason why the plot is so tight and satisfying) and I couldn't stop thinking about it! My days were filled with thoughts of boats and mutton chops and my dreams were filled with them too. Even now that I have finished the show, and I have felt just how harrowing it is to watch a show where they all die, horribly, I long for it. I have withdrawal symptoms from it. I'm not yet mentally strong enough to watch it again, but my God I yearn for the time when I will be. It's that good! Whenever, over the past week, someone has asked me how I am, my answer has been "I'm watching The Terror!" as if I felt that from that response alone they could glean exactly how excited and happy I was to be watching it; as if it was my everything at that moment! My God!

And I'm not even mentioning just how much I came to enjoy the character of Goodsir. I was told "there's a character in this who's a bit like Segundus from 'Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell'; you'll like him." I did not know how accurate that was going to be. I want to slam my fist on the table! Do you know what it is like, in a show like this, to develop a favourite character and to know, to know, from the outset that every single character is going to die? It is heart-wrenching and it hurts, and I am still not over it (not by a long shot) but at the same time the pathos is so satisfying you want to eat it all up. This is 2021. We're not here for good times. Make it hurt. Make it cathartic. Take my mind off of the world of today with a pain that I can control with my TV.

So. Wow. tl;dr The Terror is an excellent show that I highly recommend for people who like this kind of stuff. (And I'm still sparkly-eyed over Goodsir and can't do anything about it.) The End.

[katieqnmr]

critical reflection - fn2 independent project

This project has shown me another way of looking at film, in regards to the audio-visual aspects of it, and how they are both necessary to create a working narrative.

My group (Bethany, John, Jeff and myself) were particularly inspired by John’s original idea of a shy man who has a crush on his neighbour and tries to communicate by air mail. It was superbly Pixar-ish and was sort of begging for a whimsical kind of storytelling and edit. I liked it immediately because I could so clearly see the final film already. We presented a few other ideas, but none captured people like ‘AIR MAIL’, so we began.

Our roles were as follows:

- John: Writing, Shooting, Editing

- Jeff: Shooting, Script Markup

- Bethany: Producer, Pre-Production

- Katie: Pre-Production, Soundtrack, Title Card

Our research consisted of looking through various Pixar shorts such as ‘paperman’, to get a feel for the tone and edit of our film. Leo also suggested using Amelie as tonal inspiration (which is a dear film to me). Pixar served as a really good inspiration for us, as they have a way of capturing almost cliched storylines and presenting them with a whimsical and charming air. This was something we strived for and actually I think one of the big successes of our film - Zoe said she thought that was something we captured well so I was really pleased there.

I contributed to our group through pre-production, and also feedback to John, who edited, back and forth. We called a few times to discuss various aspects of our film, one being the soundtrack. It took a long time, scouring ‘no copyright’ websites, and digging through (frankly) pretty bad tracks. I was a little unhappy at the options on these websites, so I went through a classical playlist I have on Spotify (I like cultivating music I can use for projects). I ended up choosing Navarra Op.33 by Pablo de Sarasate, a piece I hugely admire for many reasons. It’s a very complex violin duet that requires such skill for each violinist to be perfectly in time with their partner. This sort of romance between two violins I felt served well for our narrative, additionally, the playful tone of the piece worked really well for the lighthearted atmosphere of our film. Zoe and Leo thankfully agreed; I was a bit worried at first! They did, however, point out that we should have considered the fade to black in the middle of the film, and I agree, and wish I had picked up on it and talked to John about it. The fade threw off the balance of the fast pace we had established. Also they suggested we try experimenting with the soundtrack in terms of it being diegetic. It would have been admittedly more interesting to play with that, which is another thing to consider for the future.

I also contributed with a storyboard for our piece, which I have talked about in a previous blog post HERE, nevertheless I will say that I was not entirely organised about it being polished, but Leo seemed to like it in general, so that was a relief. I also made the title animation for our piece, which I have also discussed in a blog post, but overall the consensus was that it was nice, but needed a different colour scheme to match the lighthearted aesthetic of our film which is something I did realise, only a little too late, after our project was submitted. I have since made an improved version, which is in the blog post HERE.

Overall our film was well received for its tone and edit, which I would say John was very responsible for, as he was the real driving force behind this. I regret that I couldn’t edit as I feel  like I missed out on a key process in this project, but I really tried to make up with what I could in my other contributions. I think all the criticism was fair, and it seems that this project is something we could return to, and improve upon.

As a group, we generally worked well together, but we lacked organisation at points, though I really don’t think to a severe level. I could have been a little more on top of things, but I really tried this time to provide more feedback for my group, which I didn’t do well on in the fiction project. I think I contributed to our group well, and I hope they feel the same way. Next time, I would like to be in the uni so I could do some editing, as it’s actually something I really love doing and I feel like I have barely done any! So I’m looking forward to that.

I would like to include some blog posts and projects that I loved watching progress through this term:

Breadsticks & Staplers - this project impressed me so much, I was actually a little speechless when I watched it! This whole group should be so proud of their work. Bonnie did the animations I think, and I really enjoyed them, and thought they worked so well within the project. Also I believe Heather edited, and I just thought her editing was superb. Fantastic group! 

Lapse - I really enjoyed watching the final piece of this, I think the choice to go black and white was a good one, and the cinematography and direction was very pleasing. The edit also was great! All round great work.

Other people’s blog posts I enjoyed:

Natalia’s post had really nice visual references in it.

Katie Jayne’s concept art was really cool.

Ben McMorran’s post was extremely detailed!

and there are so many more, I have really enjoyed reading everyone’s blogs this year, and am excited for the future blogs to come!

[guerilla935]

Review: The Turing Test

The Turing Test was developed in 2016 by Bulkhead Interactive for PC and Xbox One, Later released for all major platforms. In The Turing Test you play start the game as Ava, a scientist in cryo-sleep that has awoken to news that because of the discovery of a new dangerous life form on Europa, you must go to the moons surface and find the ground team. Avoiding any spoilers, you are confronted with 70 puzzle rooms designed to act as a Turing Test for initially unknown reasons. The game reveals itself slowly with story bits at the end of each of its 7 chapters. It uses an approach to puzzle games similar to portal, however the puzzles don’t have a crazy twist they are just logic puzzles that utilize a power and response mechanics. Meaning that most of the time what you are doing is turning on and off machines with batteries to get to a door.

So, the game itself lacks a lot in originality, the puzzles are all designed to look and feel like Portal, the room aesthetic is actually almost identical (There are even the light bridges). The type of robot vs human story presented is the same ideas in basically all of science fiction since Philip K. Dick and Blade Runner. The difference being that this game presents a number of real writings of Turing. However I believe that the game should be held responsible for the fact that it adds these in knowing that it may have done a poor job in itself to explain its topic. It presents you with the thought experiments for The Turing Test (pretty much that interview they do in Blade Runner) and the Chinese room example and present just about 5 sides to argue whether any of these actually mean that a robot could possess human thought. The short answer according to many in the field is no, and there are many reasons why an analytic mind without the creative couldn’t be considered the same as a human mind but I’ll leave that to your own research if you want to do the digging (or just play this game all the documents are here). So that was a very round about way of saying that the premise of this story really only asks questions theorized in the 80′s and failed to give them any sort of modern nuance or meaning. I will say this about it though, when presented in the first half, Tom letting you know why humans have to solve these physics based problems instead of machines feels like a celebration of the genre and how physics based puzzle games require a good portion of your creativity. A good look at why you being a human has enabled you to come up with weird and outside of the box solutions for problems rather not knowing to throw that through a window, or launch something using a set of stairs.

The meat of the game is good though. Solving puzzles feels good because they are challenging having to double back because you messed up only to then find a solution feels very good in this game. Only once did I get so stuck I had to google an answer and it was just poor explanation of how the machines work. The difficulty in The Turing Test is a very good balance. Not too easy but also not frustrating. The game presents its ideas in ways that make sense (to someone who knows games) and continues to pile together its ideas to create more complex rooms. I wouldn’t say that it gets that hard over time but it gets more complex over time. The side puzzles are very hard and borderline unfair. The first one just gives you a password that you just have to guess, and it could take a while. Another optional puzzle takes advantage of Boolean logic, even using the notations and if I didn’t have a degree in Engineering I most likely would have just had to google it because I would never have known what was going on, it just felt like the barrier to access these places were so high and most of the time rewarded so little. Most of the rewards for the bonus rooms are small pieces of lore or a “cut-scene” with a muddled message. So overall I would say that the game has a very good set of 70 main puzzles with very creative bonus rooms with very little reason to do them.

There are a few problems that I have with the story and the first is the Chinese room. The way that the game obsesses over this thought experiment is a little worn in the later chapters, I think at one point even Chris says that he is done with how obsessed Tom is with this Chinese room. I think that the reveal of the creature found on Europa is really cool and interesting to think about. However, the real plot twist in chapter 5 (although setting the stage for really cool and original puzzles) was very bad. It just seemed like an odd addition to the game that didn’t have to be there. Maybe if they wanted to just start with that and let us play with the really cool camera robot possession from the start of the game it may have fit in the story better and let us play cool puzzles a lot earlier on but throwing it where it did feels rushed and added. The quality of the game though is spectacular, the sleek space station aesthetic is well done and the acting in this game is superb (except Tom in the second half is just written in full rambles and is acted in the same manner). I was surprised how much I became attached to the ground crew and their story just through audio logs and how spooky it was to uncover things like a murder and their research. The soundtrack is also pretty standard science fiction stuff but still makes for good atmosphere.

The Turing Test is a good puzzle game, it’s only a shame that it was muddled by all these sideways thought puzzles and weird plot twists. If you were ever interested in this game I’d say give it a try especially if you like solving puzzles. It’s a short enough experience that will leave you satisfied. Also passing the Turing Test lets you know that you’re not a machine so that’s good too.

[scioscribe]

have you got any Star Trek fic recommendations? I love what you’ve written and I’m super into the fandom atm

Oh, boy, do I.  I’ll try to keep this reasonably compact, but there’s a ton of excellent fic.  My to-read folder for this fandom currently has 262 items, and I’m also way behind on leaving comments on the stories I’ve loved because I’ve been glomming them so enthusiastically.  Hopefully this will shame me into appreciating the authors as they deserve.

My definition of “reasonably compact” apparently means “twenty-two separate recs,” so have a cut, everyone.

Kirk/Spock

Communication: One of my all-time favorites.  It’s a beautiful, incredibly romantic epistolary romance where Kirk and Spock wind up captaining separate ships during a war with the Tholians.  They write each other letters where they slowly feel out a resolution to their mutual pining, and the characterization is exquisite.

To Sing the Sun in Flight: I will happily read a million “Amok Time” AUs, but this might be my favorite.  It’s simple, hot, beautifully written, and perfectly characterized.

Our Bodies Safe to Shore: Excellent, plotty, and emotionally complex fic where Spock’s body is taken over by a hostile alien intelligence, one that can read his thoughts and imitate him, and he’s locked helplessly inside.  And the alien has noticed his feelings for Jim.

Joyboy: Post-Tarsus IV story where Kirk and Spock meet as teenagers, when Spock is with his father on a diplomatic mission where the Tarsus survivors are brought for temporary shelter.  Great characterization, maybe especially of Kirk, who gets to be both the woobie (he’s being shunned by a lot of people for doing sex work on Tarsus to stay alive) and the controlled, honorable budding leader.  Little bit of underage, but not particularly explicit.

Fulfilling the Needs of the One (Or the Both): Sweet Old Married Spirk story that blends slice-of-life with a nuanced emotional plot where Spock suddenly fears that he hasn’t been giving Jim the emotional support and romance Jim needs.  (Jim begs to differ.)

Sunlight: Kirk, Spock, and McCoy start filling out one of those “getting to know you” questionnaires together for a crew newsletter, and of course Spock and Kirk have ridiculously detailed opinions about things as simple as the other one’s hair color and eye color and what kind of animal they would be.  Also some cute McCoy characterization and appreciation for shortish Jim, which I always appreciate.

Freely Given: The last by this author, I promise!  This is the best “McCoy subtly plays matchmaker” fic I’ve read, where his prods and a trip to a planet where on-the-mouth kisses are a common form of greeting make Spock start thinking about what he wants from his relationship with Kirk.  Delightful, sharp Bones, a Kirk who wants to make sure his authority as captain isn’t coming into play here, and a beautifully analytical Spock who is slowly realizing the depths of his pining.

Great Expectations: My favorite bit of xeno!  Kirk and Spock are about to have their first time together, but Spock shies away from getting completely naked, and when he finally does, Kirk has an unfortunate reflexive reaction to his unfamiliar genitals.  Before sweetly and humorously consoling Spock about it and boldly and sexily going where no man has gone before.  This is hot and romantic and perfectly characterized, and I just want to give Spock a hug.

Centennial: More Old Married Spirk!  Kirk is turning one hundred, and he’s feeling his age a little.  But Spock has the perfect gift for him.  Absolutely heartwarming, and written with grace and restraint.

A Private Obsession: Outsider-POV narrated by a man from a rigid, sexually conservative planet.  He owns a factory where Kirk and Spock (clearly stranded and/or forced undercover for purposes the narrator doesn’t know) wind up working.  He becomes sexually and romantically obsessed with Kirk and painfully jealous of Spock–and the ease with which the two men love each other–and, of course, leveraging Spock’s failing health to get Kirk into his bed doesn’t, and can’t, solve his problems.

Famous Last Words: Super adorable fic where there’s a shipboard poll of everyone’s favorite quotes of famous people’s last words, and all of Kirk’s have, um, a certain subtext about seconds-in-command, love, and sex.  Contains flirting and foreplay and love confessions via quotes.  Which is fitting, because Kirk and Spock are enormous nerds.

The Game: Funny, insightful story with Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty playing a game–come up with something another person at the table would never, ever say–that then takes a sharp turn into devastating pining.  This ends as UST, but I can’t believe they don’t get together.  I mean, come on.

Warm Thoughts: Lovely, aching post-”Amok Time” story where Kirk wants to talk about what happened on Vulcan, Spock really doesn’t, and everything is brought to a head by an absolute hurt/comfort gift of a situation where Kirk comes back from a planet with an inability to get warm.  Spock can ostensibly use mind melds to help him a little–but things keep slipping through that he’d rather not deal with.  Excellent hurt/comfort and pining.

…And a Bottle of Rum: Adorable, hilarious, sexy established relationship fic where Kirk tries to use the “Shore Leave” planet for a bit of fun pirate role-play and Spock tries to be a good sport about it.  Hilarity ensues: “Help, help,” Spock called dutifully, and was set down again with a thump as Jim collapsed in a paroxysm of laughter.

Not So Last Words: Heartbreaking post-Wrath of Khan soulmate AU.  Your soulmate’s last words are supposed to be written on your wrist, but Kirk can’t understand how Spock could have died without saying what’s on his.  There is beautifully layered tearjerker stuff here.

Round is a Shape: There are a bunch of “older Kirk is self-conscious about his weight, Spock loves him just the way he is,” and I will read them all, because I am a chubby sap.  But this is my favorite.  Utterly adorable.

And the Truth Shall Set You Free: Smug telepathic aliens force Kirk to publicly declare his feelings to a shocked, unresponsive Spock who has been avoiding him lately.  The aliens feel like they could come straight out of an episode–there’s lots of debating about morality!  I love debating about morality!–and the romance is lovely and the crew is 1000% in Kirk and Spock’s corner.  And it’s delightful.

Cut Point: Spock gets an exceptionally flattering haircut, one that would probably make me moan, “I want to touch his hair,” even more than I already do.  Suddenly, everyone on the ship can’t stop talking about how good he looks, while Kirk loses his mind due to what he thinks is unrequited love.

Gen

Way, Hey, An’ Up She Rises: Nuanced and exquisitely written first meeting story about Kirk coming onto the Enterprise and Spock evaluating him.  Really well-characterized and great at the tentative feeling of the two of them feeling each other out.  And has “pretty shitty but not actually an indiscriminate villain” Gary Mitchell, which is a take I’m especially fond of.

Second Decent Destiny: Very shippy and technically pre-slash, but reads comfortably enough as gen.  “Amok Time” AU where T’Pau doesn’t alibi them to Starfleet and Kirk winds up with an honorable discharge for diverting the ship.  Spock joins him in extremely early retirement and the two of them try to figure out where they’re going from here.  Lovely, and a very good idea for a second-chance life.

Fortune’s Favoured Child: The formatting on this is kind of terrible, but it’s extremely well-worth it if you love Kirk hurt/comfort as much as I do.  In the aftermath of the deaths of Edith Keeler and his brother, Kirk is foundering a little, and seems to snap under the impact of yet another crisis–and in the process, reveals layers of suppressed pain that even his friends didn’t know about.

Lost and Found: Again, superb Kirk hurt/comfort–well-plotted, tense, angsty, and perfectly executed.  Kirk has been kidnapped and brutally tortured by Romulans, and as the story opens, he’s been brought back to the Federation in disgrace, having made a televised confession to all manner of crimes and (presumably) spilled Federation secrets to stay alive.  His crew is supposed to keep him in the brig and bring him to justice, but of course their loyalty is such that their immediate response is basically, “Fuck no.”  (I am bowled over by the sweetness of a particular gesture here.)  And Kirk gets to be both extremely damaged and extremely resourceful and inventive.

Other Ships

Matchmaker of Mars: I initially left this off by mistake because I was going through my bookmarks, and I always just get to this one through my gift page!  It’s Uhura/T’Pring 1930s Science Fiction Writer AU, which should be enough to make you want to read it--it has lovely characterization, note-perfect pastiche, and the two of them struggling to deal with John W. Campbell.

Oh, okay, so this was the short version.  It could have been longer, I promise.  This was relative restraint!

[abzilp]

The modern German novel begins with The Adventures of Simplicius Simplicissimus (Der abenteuerliche Simplicissimus Teutsch, 1668) by Hans Grimmelshausen (1622?–76). One of the greatest novels of the 17th century, this 5-part, 400-page book is a boisterous Oktoberfest of genres bumping bellies: bildungsroman, picaresque, allegory, (anti)war novel, hagiography, fantastic voyage, romance, ghost story, sermon, and utopian novel. Referring to the frontispiece depicting a leering satyr/phoenix/bird/fish creature pointing at a book, one German critic admitted “the history of literary forms stands helpless before such a Tragelaph.”64 Initially, it resembles a picaresque novel, especially Alemán’s Guzman of Alfarache, which had been adapted into German by Aegidius Albertinus in 1615. Beginning about halfway through the Thirty Years’ War (1618–48), the narrator explains how he was raised nameless and uneducated among peasants until the marauding Imperial army looted his village when he was 12 or 13; he escapes into the nearby forest and is taken under the wing of a religious hermit who names him Simplicius because of his ignorance—he’s never seen a horse, and assumes soldiers riding them are a centaurlike hybrid of man and wolf—and brainwashes him with Christianity before allowing him to read more books borrowed from the local pastor. After the hermit dies, Simplicius returns to the world at war and yo-yos from one camp to another; treated like a fool, he becomes a professional jester until he can work his way up the ranks. He becomes a marauding prankster known as the Hunter of Soest, and on one occasion discovers an abandoned treasure in a haunted house, which seems to ensure his fortune. Knowing he’s betraying his Christian upbringing but powerless to resist, Simplicius then accompanies a young nobleman to Paris, where he becomes an actor and a gigolo, the beginning of a downward moral spiral that takes him back penniless to Germany, where he scrapes by as a traveling quack until he’s forced back into the army. Determined to settle down, he marries a country lass (who turns into a drunk), reunites with his “father” (who tells Simplicius he is actually the son of the hermit who raised him, a Scottish nobleman who abandoned the world in disgust), travels some more (Russia and Asia) before returning home disillusioned with everything, and becomes a hermit—choosing the life that had been forced upon him as a frightened boy. So it seems the entire novel has been a sermon against unchristian behavior, and a religious call for renunciation of the sinful world. 

But Grimmelshausen complicates this picaresque pilgrim’s progress in many intriguing ways. On the one hand, the novel is graphically realistic, much more so than spiritually oriented works are. The attack on young Simplicius’s village is described in sickening detail: the soldiers ransack and torch everything, torture the peasants, and rape the women. Later, peasants capture a soldier, cut off his nose, and force him to lick their assholes before they bury him alive in a barrel; when other soldiers capture the cleansed peasants, “They bound their hands and feet together round a fallen tree in such a way that their backsides (if you will forgive me again) were sticking up nicely in the air. Then they pulled down their trousers, took several yards of fuse, tied knots in it and ran it up and down in their arses to such effect that the blood came pouring out. The peasants screamed pitifully, but the soldiers were enjoying it and did not stop their sawing until they were through the skin and flesh and down to the bone.”65 Young Grimmelshausen was an eyewitness to such atrocities—the first third of the novel is somewhat autobiographical; his handling of a child’s POV is superb—and his willingness to report what he saw so unflinchingly makes Simplicissimus a primary source for historians of the Thirty Years’ War. (You’ll recall the Spanish Estebanillo González is also set during that conflict and captures some of the chaos of war, but Grimmelshausen focuses on the civilian population.) 

Such language also makes the novel a primary document in the rise of realism in fiction; not since Thomas Nashe had any novelist dared to describe the aftermath of battle in such gruesome terms as he uses: “there were heads that had lost the bodies they belonged to and bodies lacking heads; some had their entrails hanging out in sickening fashion, others their skull smashed and the brain spattered over the ground; . . . there were shot-off arms with the fingers still moving, as if they wanted to get back into the fighting, . . .” (2.27). The dialogue is equally realistic: “Pox on you, brother, are you still alive?” one soldier greets another. “By the holy fuckrament, the Devil looks after his own!” (1.26). As a licensed fool, Simplicius doesn’t mince words when asked to describe a fashionable visitor: “This lady has hair as yellow as baby shit and the parting is as white and as straight as if she had been hit on the scalp with a curry-comb. And her hair is in such neat rolls it looks like hollow pipes, or as if she had a pound of candles or a dozen sausages hanging down each side. And oh, look at her lovely smooth forehead, is it not more beautifully curved than a fat buttock and whiter than a dead man’s skull which has been hanging out in the wind and rain for years?” (2.9). Simplicius often embarrasses himself by farting noisily; people vomit, shit, swear, scratch at lice and fleas. There’s sex and some nudity: sailing on the Danube for Vienna, Simplicius “had eyes for nothing but the women who answered the calls from the boats with literal rather than verbal bare-arsed cheek” (5.3).66 The point is religious writers don’t write like this—nowhere in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress does a farmboy tell a dairymaid “that she could kiss his arse and go fuck her mammy in the bargain” (3.23)—which calls into question the ostensibly religious orientation of the novel. Something else is afoot. 

Though highly realistic, more so than most pre-20th-century novels, Simplicissimus is, on the other hand, highly unrealistic and brazenly supernatural. Grimmelshausen’s novel often reads like a Grimms’ fairy tale, for Simplicius lives in a demon-haunted world where people still cast spells, foretell the future, and consort with devils. When he leaves the forest for the town, some citizens “thought I was a spectre, a ghost or some such phenomenon” (1.19)—phenomena as real to them as the butcher or the baker. In book 2, Simplicius is foraging at night and sneaks into a farmhouse, where he spies a few people who “had a sulphurous blue lamp on the bench by the light of which they were greasing sticks, brooms, pitchforks, stools and benches. Then, one after the other, they flew out of the window on them.” Puzzled, he sits on one of the benches and instantly shoots out the window and lands about 150 miles northeast to witness a witches’ dance, described with Boschean extravagance. Invited to join the dance, “I cried out loud to God, at which the whole crew vanished” (2.17). Simplicius insists this actually happened, and wasn’t a dream; citing similar stories from reputable scholars, including the story of Faust, he dares the reader to disbelieve him: “if you don’t believe it, you will have to think up some other way in which I went in such short time from Hersfeld or Fulda (I still don’t know where I was, wandering round in the forest) to the vicinity of Magdeburg” (2.18). There he is taken into a regiment that includes a prevost-sergeant who “was a true sorcerer and black magician who knew a spell for finding out thieves and another to make not only himself as bullet-proof as steel, but others too.” To find a thief, “the sorcerer muttered a few words and puppies started to jump out of people’s pockets, sleeves, boots, flies and any other openings in their dress, one, two, three or more at a time” (2.22). A little later, Simplicius invents a pocket-sized instrument that enables him to hear things taking place miles away, and again taunts the reader: “However, I am not surprised if people do not believe what I have just written” (3.1). The treasure he discovers is guarded by a “ghost or wraith” (3.12), which is not a product of his imagination, nor is the demon who speaks to him from inside a man undergoing exorcism (5.2). Near the end is the greatest test of the reader’s incredulity: tossing some stones into the “enchanted” Mummelsee, “a supposedly bottomless lake” (5.10)—a real lake in the Black Forest, but now known to be only 55 feet deep—some sylphs come to the surface, give him a magic jewel that enables him to breathe underwater, then take him to the center of the earth for a 16-page tour of their subterranean world and discuss their place in the Christian scheme of things.67 

All this takes place on the “factual” plane of the novel, and doesn’t include numerous instances where people are mistaken for devils, or Simplicius’s allegorical dream of the military establishment as a tree (which allows Grimmelshausen to criticize further the suffering inflicting upon civilians) “with Mars, the God of War, on the top, and covering the whole of Europe with its branches” (1.18). One chapter is entitled “How Simplicius Was Dragged Down into Hell by Four Devils and Treated to Spanish Wine” (2.5), followed by “How Simplicius Went to Heaven and Was Turned into a Calf” (2.6), but these are merely pranks soldiers play on the naïve lad. Later he meets a madman who calls himself Jupiter, whom Simplicius plays along with by referring himself to Ganymede or Mercury, and layered on top of other references to classical mythology and German folklore is an elaborate set of references to Chaldean astrology. It’s tempting to call this magic realism were it not closer to the aesthetics of the medieval morality play, where figures representing devils or the sun shared the same stage as mortals. Christianity is part and parcel of this magical/medieval world: throughout the novel, saints and angels are evoked in the same breath as figures from myth and folklore, supernatural events are defended with citations of similar events in the Bible, and Christian theology is indistinguishable from the world of myth and magic. If you believe in the miracles in the Bible, the novel implies, then you’re no different from those who believe witches ride broomsticks and sorcerers cause puppies to magically crawl out of your pocket. As in Don Quixote, there is a clash between old-world and new-world weltanschauungs, and by the end of the novel, Christianity has been so thoroughly contaminated by its association with outdated mythology that Simplicius’s quixotic decision to renounce the world at age 33 and become a Christian hermit can only be regarded as the act of a simpleton. The novel encourages figurative detachment from the world, not literal. 

Grimmelshausen certainly didn’t drop out to play the holy fool: he managed estates, ran several inns, was the mayor of a small town, had 10 kids, and wrote more than 20 books. He converted from Protestantism to Catholicism when younger (to help his careers, it’s been suggested), but he knew the only real magic is the act of artistic creation. There’s a lovely passage near the end of book 1 in which an officer’s secretary praises writing as a way to make a living; Simplicius thinks he’s talking about magic (and is reminded of “Fortunatus’s inexhaustible purse”), but Grimmelshausen is also praising the novelist’s art of creating something from nothing: 

I once criticised him for his dirty inkwell but he replied that it was the best thing in his whole room for he could draw up out of it anything he wanted: fine gold ducats, fine clothes, in short all his possessions had been fished out of his inkwell one by one. I refused to believe that such magnificent things could be obtained from such a paltry container. He replied that it was the spiritus paperi, as he called the ink, that did it, and that an inkwell was called a well because you could draw up all sorts of things out of it. (1.27) 

Out of Grimmelshausen’s dirty inkwell came this devilishly clever satire on 17th-century society, a world “so full of foolishness that no one takes any notice or laughs at it anymore,” as Simplicius notes (3.17), encouraging him to “castigate all follies and censure all vanities” (2.10). Simplicissimus begins like a picaresque bildungsroman but opens up into a Menippean satire, a blitzkrieg against pretension, hypocrisy, superstition, and especially the alleged nobility of war. There’s no bullshit here about dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, a con kings and politicians have been using to recruit cannon-fodder ever since Horace penned that piece of propaganda. The Thirty Years’ War was essentially a family squabble between the Hapsburgs and the Bourbons for territorial control over Europe (with some Protestant vs. Catholic window-dressing), about as noble as a mob turf war, and though Grimmelshausen sarcastically notes war is good for business (5.5), he rubs his reader’s face in its barbaric nature with a force that wouldn’t be felt again until the antiwar novels of the 20th century. As Simplicius fools his way through war-torn, phantasmagoric Germany, I was remind of Slothrop in Gravity’s Rainbow; Grimmelshausen even indulges in some Pynchonesque personification: on one of his foraging expeditions, Simplicius sees “a sight for sore eyes or, rather, empty bellies: hanging up in the chimney were hams, sausages and sides of bacon. They seemed to be smiling at me, so I gave them a come-hither look, wishing they would come and join my comrades in the woods, but in vain; the hard-hearted things ignored me and stayed hanging there” (2.31). Simplicissimus belongs to the same insubordinate platoon as The Good Soldier Švejk, The Tin Drum, and Catch-22. 

Though Grimmelshausen drew upon personal experiences for the early parts of the novel, he drew mostly upon his extensive reading. Scholars have shown that more than 150 books went into the making of this erudite novel, ranging from classical authors and the medieval Parzival to the 6-page passage from Antonio de Guevara’s 16th-century theological tract that concludes book 5. A German translation of Charles Sorel’s iconoclastic antinovel Francion (see pp. 182–86 below) was a major inspiration, but Grimmelshausen also drew upon Italian novellas and German jestbooks (like Till Eulenspiegel), encyclopedias and almanacs, and manuals on witchcraft like Johann Wier’s De Præstigiis dæmonium (2.8). A battle scene that sounds like an eyewitness report actually comes from a German translation of Sidney’s Arcadia (which should give military historians pause). On one occasion, Simplicius visits a pastor and finds him “reading my Chaste Joseph” (3.19)—a biblical novel Grimmelshausen published in 1666, though it’s only 1639 at this point! That’s so obviously an anachronism that it has to be deliberate, another taunting call for the suspension of disbelief like Simplicius’s magical bench ride and his sylph-escorted journey to the center of the earth. It’s all one to “the old inkslinger” (2.4). 

Cervantes waited 10 years to publish a sequel to Don Quixote, but Grimmelshausen jumped on the unexpected success of Simplicissimus. When the 5-book novel was reprinted in 1669, he added a 6th book simply entitled Continuation (Continuatio), though scholars are divided on whether this forms an organic whole with the previous part, or is the first of several sequels Grimmelshausen published over the next few years. 

Like most hastily written sequels, the Continuation isn’t very good. Picking up where book 5 left off, Simplicius’s solitary life as a hermit seems to be driving him crazy, for first he recounts a long, allegorical dream that starts in hell with Lucifer gnashing his teeth at the declaration of peace that ended the Thirty Years’ War, which morphs into a didactic tale of a rich young Englishman who ruins himself through conspicuous consumption. Our hairy hermit then encounters a statue that comes to life, and—after Simplicius decides to hit the road as a pilgrim—he gets into an argument with some toilet paper, who delivers a long economic history of its many metamorphoses from seed to paper (a remarkable set-piece that again brings Pynchon to mind). Mistaken for the Wandering Jew, spooked by ghosts, Simplicius has further bizarre adventures as he travels to Egypt, then is shipwrecked on a deserted island off the coast of Australia, where he leads a Robinson Crusoe-type existence—this section was based on the popular English novelette by Henry Neville, The Isle of Pines (1668)—and there he writes the entire Simplicissimus novel on palm leaves. Refusing rescue by a Dutch sea captain, Simplicius intends to live out the rest of his pious life on his island hideaway, “an example of change and a mirror of the inconstancy of human life.”68 Although the book offers further displays of the author’s outlandish erudition, it’s too didactic, too medieval. 

Grimmelshausen returns to form in The Life of Courage (Die Landstörtzerin Courasche, 1670).69 Near the end of Simplicissimus, our protagonist had boasted of seducing and dumping a beatiful lady, a “man-trap” whose “easy virtue soon disgusted him” (5.6); nine months later, she leaves a baby on his doorstep, who Simplicius reluctantly makes his son and heir. Audaciously blurring the distinction between fiction and reality, Grimmelshausen states in a headnote that this unnamed woman read Simplicissimus and was so insulted at her portrayal therein that she decided to avenge herself by telling the story of her life, revealing that the woman he took for an aristocrat was actually a promiscuous adventuress infected with syphilis—which raises an intriguing possibility: Did Simplicius contract the disease from her? Untreated, it can cause insanity, which would explain the underwater sylphic adventure later in book 5 and the talking toilet paper. Indeed, the entire bizarre Continuation can be read as a neurosyphilitic hallucination. If nothing else, it stinks up the odor of sanctity with which Simplicissimus ends. 

Just as the Continuation anticipates Robinson Crusoe, this short novel anticipates Defoe’s Moll Flanders, but with no apology at the end for the life she’s led. (Grimmelshausen, however, tacks on a homiletic warning against following her example.) Inspired by a German translation of Lopez de Úbeda’s Justina, Grimmelshausen backtracks to the very beginning of the Thirty Years’ War. Born in Bohemia, 13-year-old Libuschka disguises herself as a boy to avoid rape from invading soldiers and joins the army: “I made a great effort to get rid of all my woman’s habits and acquire man’s. I took great pains to learn to swear like a trooper and drink like a fish . . . so that no one should suspect there was something I had not been endowed with at birth” (2). When it’s revealed during a fight she lacks that certain something, she defiantly calls her vulva Courage, which becomes her girl-power nom de guerre in her fight against male prejudice as well as opposing armies.70 Over the next dozen years, she is repeatedly married to soldiers, repeatedly raped by other other soldiers, then becomes a prostitute, then a black marketeer, doing whatever it takes to survive the war, and marrying whoever promises shelter from the storm. (Through no fault of her own, her husbands usually perish before their first anniversary.) She’s smart, as courageous as her name implies, and fiercely independent; she doesn’t really descend into criminal behavior until later in life, when she joins a band of Gypsies. And that child she left on Simplicius’s doorstep? Not hers, but her slutty maid’s. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Courage takes self-incriminating delight in telling Simplex (as she calls him) how wrong he was about everything. 

Like Simplicissimus, Courage is graphically realistic but includes a few magical elements. The Spanish Justina tried to dodge sexual encounters, but Courage welcomes them: she’s a novelty in novels of this period, a sexually active woman who doesn’t feel guilty about scratching her itch (as puts it). While we have to remember that a man is writing this, Grimmelshausen was a worldly one and knew that women have sexual desires too, which you wouldn’t guess from most novels published before the 20th century. Like Simplicius, Courage occasionally reads courtly romance novels, but only to pick up “pretty turns of phrase from” for the purposes of seduction (5; cf. Simplicissimus 3.18: “these books taught me how to lure the female sex”). Rebelling against the polite romance tradition, Grimmelshausen opposes his hard-core realism to their unrealistic fantasies; like his model Charles Sorel, he was out to destroy the mainstream novel, and Courage is an earthy and bracing alternative to most 17th-century fiction. 

One of Courage’s longer-term relationships was with a lackey/paramour she nicknamed Tearaway, from the time she told him, “Tear yourself away from that cart and go and fetch the dappled grey from the grazing” (16). After she dumped him for drunkenness and domestic violence, this rascal became one of Simplicius’s gang during his Hunter of Soest period. He tells his story in Tearaway (Der seltzame Springinsfeld, 1670), which begins when the young scribe Courage had hired to write down her memoir runs into Simplicius, lately returned from Australia, and his old servant Tearaway at an inn.71 The scribe tells them what Courage dictated to him—Simplicius interrupts to admit he was also banging Courage’s maid, so that baby is his son after all—and also of her life with the Gypsies. (Grimmelshausen may be the first to write about them in fiction.) We learn that Simplicius, as pious as ever, is annoyed that readers are treating his Simplicissimus merely as a jestbook like Till Eulenspiegel instead of the Christian allegory he intended. Incongruously, he is now making a living as a traveling salesman peddling an elixir that improves wine, using a magic book as part of his spiel—another occasion Grimmelshausen uses, like the dirty inkwell, for a tribute to the power of imaginative writing—and after nine chapters of metafictional scene-setting, Tearaway tells how he spent the war. Like much of Simplicissimus, Tearaway is a grim, grunt’s-eye view of war, where greed for booty trumps patriotic duty, and which brings out the worst in everyone. Tearaway admits “Soldiers are there to persecute the peasants and any that leave them in peace aren’t doing their job properly,” but also notes “some peasants were worse than the good soldiers themselves. They not only murder soldiers, innocent and guilty, whenever they managed to get hold of them, when they had the chance, they stole from their neighbours, even from their own friends and relations” (13). This section is sketchy, obviously worked up not from firsthand experience but from the same war chronicle Grimmelshausen used for Courage, Eberhard von Wassenberg’s Erneuerter Teutscher Florus (1647). After the war is over, Tearaway marries a widow and becomes a crooked innkeeper, abandons both, then marries a hurdy-gurdy player and scrapes out a living accompanying her on the fiddle as wandering musicians. This colorful, realistic account of tramping morphs into a fairy tale in which his wife discovers a magical bird’s nest that confers invisibility on its owner; Tearaway’s too cowardly to use it for gain—she isn’t, and winds up being burned as a witch as a result—and the tatterdemalion is still playing for pfennigs when he runs in to his old master. Simplicius tries to recall him to Christian principles, which Tearaway initially dismisses as “a load of monkish tripe” (27), though he repents just before he dies. 

“The Miraculous Bird’s Nest” (Das wunderbarliche Vogelnest, 1672 [part 1] and 1675 [part 2]) is the title of the last two sections of what Grimmelshausen eventually called the Simplician Cycle. In part 1, a do-gooder named Michael uses the cloaking device to obstruct various misdeeds while searching for an honorable way to make money; in part 2, an unnamed merchant, less scrupulous than Michael (and more like Tearaway’s wife), takes advantage of invisibility to commit various acts of greed, lust, and sorcery. The miraculous bird’s nest functions as a “lens through which the bearer perceives reality” (Negus, 124), another analog for one of fiction’s purposes. Simplicius’s son appears in one episode in part 1, but otherwise the 2-part novel is only thematically related to the preceding novels, emphasizing once again the inconstancy of fortune, the prevalence of evil, and the consequent necessity of adhering to Christian principles. Books 1 through 8 of the Simplician Cycle depicted a world at war, but in these final two books Grimmelshausen argues that the world at peace is just as dangerous. They sound mildly entertaining, but as they’ve not been translated, I can only direct the interested reader elsewhere for more on the conclusion to Grimmelshausen’s 10-part, 800-page meganovel.72 

Unlike part 2 of Don Quixote, the second half of the Simplician Cycle isn’t as impressive as the first half (i.e., Simplicissimus), but that doesn’t prevent Grimmelshausen from occupying the same lofty position in early German literature, and his influence on later German writers is profound. He impressed Ludwig Tieck and other German Romantics, the Grimm brothers and Goethe, and his work played a patriotic part in the unification of Germany in the 19th century. Most major German novelists of the 20th century have paid tribute to him: Thomas Mann borrowed from his work for his Felix Krull and Doctor Faust, and in his introduction to a Swedish translation of Simplicissimus, he wrote: “It is the rarest kind of monument to life and literature, for it has survived almost three centuries and will survive many more. It is a story of the most basic kind of grandeur—gaudy, wild, raw, amusing, rollicking and ragged, boiling with life, on intimate terms with death and the devil—but in the end, contrite and fully tired of a world wasting itself in blood, pillage and lust, but immortal in the miserable splendor of its sins.”73 Hesse greatly admired Grimmelshausen, and from him Bertolt Brecht conceived the idea for his play Mother Courage and Her Children (1949). Grimmelshausen’s earthy, erudite, punning language was an inspirational starting point for Arno Schmidt’s even more outlandish diction. I implied earlier that the young Simplicius has something in common with Oskar Matzerath in Günter Grass’s Tin Drum (1959), and Grimmelshausen steals the show in Grass’s erudite critifiction The Meeting at Telgte (1979), an imaginary conference of several German authors in 1647, in which Grass affectionately roasts the old inkslinger: 

In his green doublet and plumed hat he looked like something out of a storybook. . . . [After he] had offered his services in a long-winded speech well larded with tropes, Harsdörffer took Dach aside. True, he said, the fellow prates like an itinerant astrologer—he had introduced himself to the assemblage as Jupiter’s favorite, whom, as they could see, Venus had punished in France—but he had wit, and was better read than his clowning might lead one to suspect. . . . His lies, said Harsdörffer, are as inspired as any romances; his eloquence reduces the very Jesuits to silence; not just the church fathers, but all the gods and their planets are at his fingertips; he is familiar with the seamy side of life, and wherever he goes, in Cologne, in Recklinghausen, in Soest, he knows his way about. . . . Hofmannswaldau stood dumbfounded; hadn’t the fellow just quoted a passage from Opitz’s translation of the Arcadia? . . . His words seemed as trustworthy as the sheen of the double row of buttons on his green doublet. (6–7) 

In this novel Grimmelshausen is still in his mid-twenties, but someday, the narrator predicts, “he would let every foul smell out of the bag; a chronicler, he would bring back the long war as a word-butchery, let loose gruesome laughter, and give the [German] language license to be what it is: crude and soft-spoken, whole and stricken, here Frenchified, there melancolicky, but always drawn from the casks of life. Yes, he would write! By Jupiter, Mercury, and Apollo, he would!” (112–13). 

[odindiana19-blog]

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My friend adores these tools.  The majority of the users are happy and happy with the item.  It's a highly effective product at 1,000 watts so receives the task done quickly and with minimal fuss.

[lionboy5-blog]

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The modern-day OED checklists 'couth' as a 'humorous' word, meaning cultured or improved, as well as a 'back formation from words 'rude' significance crude, which by the 1500s had actually come to be a much more widely utilized definition of uncouth. This 'back development' relates to the recent meanings, not words's beginnings. Initially, concerning 1300 years ago 'couth' meant acquainted or understood. It was stemmed from the previous participle of the old English word cunnan, to know. An old version of uncouth, 'uncuth', implying unknown, is in Beowulf, the significant old English message of c. 725AD.

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This significance appears to have converged with the Celtic words 'Taob-righ' (' king's party'), 'tuath-righ' (' partisans of the king') and also 'tar-a-ri' (' come O king'). They started calling themselves 'Conservatives' in 1832, yet the Tory name has continued to stick. toe the line - comply with policies or policy, act as needed - from early 1900s, first stemming from armed forces use, pertaining to parade drill, where soldiers' foot positions were needed to straighten with a real or imaginery line on the ground. tit for tat - retribution or retaliation, an exchange disrespects or strikes - 'tit for tat' advanced from 'suggestion for faucet', a middle English expression for strike for impact, which also suggested a trade of verbal disrespects.

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These cliches, words and also expressions origins as well as derivations show the ever-changing complexity of language and also communications, and also are optimal totally free materials for word problems or tests, and also team-building games. Mottos and also expressions are detailed alphabetically according to their keyword, as an example, 'save your bacon' is detailed under 'b' for bacon. Some expressions with 2 keywords are detailed under each word. worth his salt - a valued participant of the group - salt has long been related to a guy's worth, since it utilized to be a much more valuable product than now.

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Walking is English from around 1800, whose origins oddly are unidentified prior to this. The alliterative top quality of words hitchhike would definitely have motivated popular usage. walking - raise or force up dramatically - according to Chambers, hyke as well as heik initially appeared in colloquial English c. 1809 meaning walk or march intensely. The meaning encompassed hitching up a pair of pants/trousers during the mid-late-1800s as well as was first videotaped in 1873. As well as prolonging from the above, around 1904, walk was first tape-recorded being used in the feeling of sharply elevating earnings or costs. The very same use is first tape-recorded in American English around 1930.

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Tat developed from tap partly because of the alliteration with tit, but likewise from the spoken argument aspect, which made use of the impact of the Center English 'tatelen' suggesting prattle, which likewise gave rise to tittle-tattle. ( eg 'pointer and also run' still defines a bat as well as ballgame when the player hits the round and also runs, as in cricket). Tit for tat was certainly in use in the mid-late 16th century. Similar to lots of these old expressions, their usage has been enhanced by comparable sounding international matchings, specifically from N.Europe, in this situation 'dit vor dat' in Dutch, as well as 'tant pour tant' in French. Skeat's 1882 dictionary of etymology references 'tit for tat' in 'Bullinger's Works'.

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Paradoxically much of this use is as a substitute for the word uncouth, as an example in referring to crudity/rudeness/impoliteness as "not very couth", and comparable variants. Alternate poetry vernacular are lotion biscuits and also cream crackered, which triggered the expression 'creamed', suggesting tired or beaten. a pet cat might view a king/a cat might consider a king/a cat might make fun of a queen - humble individuals are qualified to have and also to express point of views about allegedly 'remarkable' people. The various variants of this older proverb are based on the initial version, which is first referenced by John Heywood in his 1546 book, Sayings. The origin is unidentified, however it remains a superb example of how reliable proverbs can be in conveying fairly intricate significances making use of really few words. is normally that no-one is actually over objection, or immune from having a good time jabbed at them by 'lower' individuals for behaving wrongly, irrespective of their condition.

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The expression comes from as far back as Roman times when soldiers' pay was given in provisions, including salt. The contemporary version most likely grew from the one Maker references in 1870, 'true to his salt', suggesting 'faithful to his employer'. tories - political Conventional event and also its participants - the initial tories were a band of Irish Catholic hooligans in Elizabethan times. The word derived from the Irish 'toruigh', from 'toruighim', suggesting to rob all of a sudden.

on tenterhooks - very anxious with expectation - a metaphor from the very early English cloth-making procedure where towel would be extended or 'tentered' on hooks placed in its seamed edges. ' Tentered' originates from the Latin 'tentus', indicating extended, which is also the origin of the word 'camping tent', being made of stretched canvas. teetotal - abstaining from alcohol - from the very early English practice for a 'T' to be added after the names of people that had pledged to abstain completely from alcohol. Similarly, people that had actually signed the abstaining promise had the letters 'O.P.' (for 'Old Promise') included after their names. If anybody knows anything about the abstaining promise from very early English times please inform me.

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Brewer in 1870 recommends for 'tit for tat' the recommendation 'Heywood', which must be John Heywood, English playwright (not to be perplexed with an additional English playwright Thomas Heywood ). According to James Rogers thesaurus of quotes and cliches, John Heywood made use of the 'tit for tat' expression in 'The Crawler as well as the Flie' 1556. thunderbolt - fictional strike from above, or a substantial surprise - this was ancient folklore and also astronomy's attempt to clarify a lightening strike, before the appreciation of electrical power. The original old expression was 'thunderstone' which came from confusing rumbling and lightening with meteor strikes and shooting stars, and also was later on superseded by 'thunderbolt' (' screw' as in the short arrow discharged from a cross bow). Words 'thunderbolt' gave rise straight to the much more current cliche implying a large surprise, 'bolt from the blue'.

Which is better Emsculpt vs CoolSculpting?

While Emsculpt can disrupt adipocytes (fat cells) leading to a reduction in circumference, the golden standard for non-invasive fat reduction remains CoolSculpting. Furthermore, CoolSculpting can target bulges from a double chin down to fat pockets above the knees.

Third, and probably a lot more probably, dual cross stems from an old meaning of the word cross, to deceive or fix a horse race, from the 1800s (the term obviously appears in Thackeray's 'Vanity Fair', to explain a fixed horse race). Dual cross particularly defined the technique of pre-arranging for an equine to lose, however then reneging on the repair as well as allowing the equine to win. couth/uncouth - these words are really interesting since while the word uncouth is in prominent usage, its favorable as well as originating opposite 'couth' is not widely made use of. Many individuals believe it is no more a 'correct' word, or do not recognize that words 'couth' ever existed whatsoever. Actually 'couth' is still a perfectly genuine word, although it's not been in typical English use since the 1700s, and was provided in the 1922 OED as a Scottish word.

Do you lose weight after fat freezing?

Fat Loss with CoolSculpting Fat loss is the removal of the fat cells from the body entirely; but, this doesn't result in significant weight loss. This is because fat doesn't actually weigh very much in people with a normal Body Mass Index (BMI).

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more information of Lipo-Sculpt crm ', nor 'huge as a knee' show up in 1870 Maker, which suggests that the expression grew or came to be popular after this time. Based Upon Nigel Rees' well looked into and also reputable dating of 1923 for first taped use, it is most likely that earliest actual usage was probably a few years prior to this. The money jargon area contains money slang as well as word origins and also significances, as well as English cash history. Sayings and expressions give us many terrific numbers of speech as well as words in the English language, as they evolve by means of usage and mis-use alike. Lots of cliches as well as expressions - and also words - have fascinating and unexpected origins, as well as several prominent presumptions regarding definitions as well as derivations are mistaken.

It's worth noting that playing cards were a very significant aspect of home entertainment and also entertainment a few centuries ago before TV as well as computer systems. cake stroll, piece of cake/takes the cake/takes the biscuit/takes the bun - easy task/wins - from the custom of offering cakes as prizes in rural competitions, and possibly people origin. Brewer informs of the custom in U.S.A. enslavement states when servants or complimentary descendents would certainly walk in a procession in sets around a cake at a celebration or celebration, the most elegant set being granted the cake as a reward. The variations of bun as well as biscuit most likely show previously meanings of these words when they explained something closer to a cake. On which point, I am encouraged that the American version expression 'triumphes' arguably precedes the British variation of 'takes the biscuit'. Maybe, possibly not, because 'takes the biscuit' appears to have a British insurance claim dating back to 1610 (see' takes the biscuit '). This all increases better interesting questions about the different as well as transforming significances of words like biscuit and also bun.

How much weight can you lose with fat freezing?

CoolSculpting can naturally diminish between 20-25% of the fat cells in the areas it covers. It will not help you lose weight, however, it can improve the shape of your body, making it appear as though you've dropped pounds. This is because a 20-25% reduction can make a huge impact on the appearance of stubborn bulges.

Adding also to the significance of the cliché, black pets have have for centuries been fiendish and also harmful signs in the superstitious notions and also folklore of different cultures. have actually long been a symbolic icon due to the fact that they are icons everybody can identify, just as we have several expressions including similarly appealing symbols like pet cats and also canines.

he's/ she's a card - an unusual or significant person - opinions are split on this one - probably 'card' in this feeling is based upon based upon playing cards - suggesting that an individual is a challenging one (' card') to play. Maker describes that the full expression alike use at the time (mid-late 1900s) was 'card of the house', implying a differentiated individual. If the Shakespearian root stands this definition possibly mixed with and was ultimately more popularised by the having fun card allegory. Remarkably Maker checklists a number of various other currently obsolete expressions comparing people and also situations to cards.

Wilde maintained names of bad guys in a book, and along with those who gained his security by giving him with valuable info or paying adequately he noted a cross. When they ceased to be of usage Wilde included a second cross to their names, and would certainly turn them in to the authorities for the bounty. Allegedly Wilde was eventually betrayed and went to the gallows himself. An additional description is that it associates with the name of a British knowledge team in The second world war, took part in tricking German spies to flaw.

Biscuit in America is a different thing to biscuit in Britain, the last amounting the American 'cookie'. Bun to many individuals in England is an easy bread roll or cob, but has several older associations to sweeter baked rolls and cakes. Early Scottish use words cadet, later caddie, was for a duty boy.

How many cycles of CoolSculpting do you need?

How Many Coolsculpting Treatments Will I Need? Good news: In general, most patients only need about one CoolSculpting treatment to see results. That's because one hour-long CoolSculpting procedure is enough to treat about 24% of fat cells within the targeted area, leading to exciting results.

The original meanings of couth/uncouth (' known/unknown and also 'familiar/unfamiliar') altered over the following 500 years to make sure that by the 1500s couth/uncouth described well-mannered and courteous as well as crude as well as awkward. At some stage in this process the words became much rarer in English. Their usage was maintained in Scottish, which allowed the 'back development' of tacky right into typical English use today. Unfortunately during the 1800s and 1900s couth lost its appeal, and its condition as an 'official' word according to some dictionaries. Technically couth stays an appropriate word, implying cultured/refined, but it is not used with excellent self-confidence or sentence for the factors given over.

brass neck/brass-neck/brass necked - boldness or impudence/audacious, impolite, 'cheeky' - brass neck and brass necked are combinations of two metaphorically used words, brass and neck, each individually meaning impudence/impudent, audacity/audacious. As pertains to brass, Maker 1870 listings 'brass' as implying insolence. Several of these meanings relate to brass being an affordable imitation of gold. Several of the definitions likewise associate with brass being a very tough and durable material. Phonetically there is additionally a similarity with bold, which has similar meanings - disrespectful, vulgarly self-assertive. At some stage during the 20th century brass and also neck were combined to develop brass neck and brass necked. black dog - depression or sullen state of mind - an expression very old beginnings; the saying was made well-known in recent times by Britain's WWII leader Sir Winston Churchill describing his very own anxieties.

[thetypedwriter]

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue Book Review

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

A precious biracial friendship that’s progressing to possibly more, a badass lady capable of wielding her smarts as well as a needle, pirates, awareness of illnesses instead of ignorance, and a grand tour of cultural hubs such as Venice, Madrid, Florence, and Santorini. You might have of heard of this book as it’s been making its round throughout social media and creating quite a stir.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue while quite mouthy in title and in page count offers an exhilarating journey with main characters Percy, Monty, and Felicity as they leave England to embark on what they think will be an ordinary cultural tour before the three main characters are subjected to fates none of them truly want and instead find themselves in the middle of a mysterious blockbuster plot including stolen keys, sinking islands, ambiguously intentioned siblings, and a greedy, evil man (it’s not a true blockbuster without one of these involved). This book boasts an impressive array of cities and writing, capturing audiences with more positive than negative qualities that give it the popularity its currently gleaning.

So, as always, the biggest question is: is the book good? In my very humble opinion, yes, yes it’s fine-and I use the word fine on purpose here. The writing is witty, the vocabulary is strong and varied, the characters are interesting, and the plot is just odd and adventurous enough to keep you hooked. The historical elements involved are a crucial selling point.

The author, Mackenzi Lee, provides a delectable assortment of details and nuances that show off her history major quite well and give accreditation to Simmons College (well done-their writing program must be superb). She obviously knows what she is talking about ranging from the cuisine and traveling of the day to fashion and even customs such as how to address others of higher social ranking and Europe’s political quagmire of a government.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue is also ripe with a plot that is fast-paced, vigorous, and action packed. From being attacked by highwaymen, boarded by pirates, injected with bella donna poison, escaping a tomb that is being sucked into the ocean, and much more, the book doesn’t leave much room for boredom or pandering. The book is well over 500 pages and I managed to read it in a measly three days.

To be truthful, I believe it’s a combination of a being a good book coupled with the fact that it’s also the weird time period between Christmas and New Years where I can’t even recall what day of the week it is or what I’m supposed to be doing: hence, a multitude of free time open for reading and absorbing.

This book actually leaves me a bit impressed with young adult literature, either the standards have greatly increased or I’ve just been on a roll. Hopefully it’s a bit of both. All of the main characters are great in that they all break specific stereotypes and tropes that run rampant in YA fiction. Example one: Felicity. During a time in England where women were seen as submissive, inferior creatures to men in the 18th century, Lee does a great job of realistically catering to the time period as well as honestly portraying a view of women that is very easy to believe and like.

Felicity is easily the most intelligent of the main characters, despite her gender being refused a proper education that is rewarded to her brother and other men during the time. She is always easily the most focused and brave, as is seen multiple times in the novel where she is capable of sewing shut her own arm when she receives a gash, meanwhile Percy and Monty cower in the corner like the babies they are.

Helena also receives an honorable mention here for being both a bloodthirsty and compassionate character as compared to her bumbling and awkward brother. The women of this book were tough and intelligent, often driving the plot forward and standing up to their male counterparts in ways I found admirable without being cheesy or political.

Now, the next main character: Percy. Percy is a sweetheart. He’s also easily the most tragic character in the novel. As an individual that is dark skinned in a society that values the opposite, queer in a culture where it is a legally and morally sinful to be so, and the unfortunate bearer of being epileptic and suffering from seizures in a world that knows very little of his medical condition and the reasons behind his “episodes”. It was fascinating to learn about epilepsy in retrospect.

Epilepsy today is still widely misunderstood and doctors still do not know what causes the seizures in most cases. However, in 18th century England, I discovered from reading this book that epilepsy was seen as a curse from the devil and was often stigmatized to the point of being socially outcasted. The main methods dealing with epilepsy included bloodletting, drilling holes in the skull, or becoming institutionalized and kept away. Not many great options there. Lee does a fantastic job of including elements such as race, illness, and sexuality to an already layered plot and story that makes it that much more interesting and heavy.

        Lastly, to the main protagonist of the story, Monty. I liked Monty almost as much as I hated him and he is part of the large reason I am keeping this book in the 4 star range instead of the 5. Monty is a privileged white boy who doesn’t have much to offer in terms of personality, intelligence, compassion, or even emotional depth.

I also understand, on some levels, that this is the whole point of his character. Monty was obviously designed to be spoiled, selfish, ignorant, and cowardly, and we, as readers, are supposed to see his character development and growth by the end of the book but I honestly think he (and Lee) fall short of this mission. Yes, he stops drinking and yes, he learns how to throw a punch instead of letting other big white men like his father and the Duke of Bourborn physically abuse him, but he’s also still intrinsically selfish and useless in almost all situations.

And while it took him 500 pages to suck up the courage to finally confess to Percy that he loves him and it worked out (good for them) I found myself constantly asking mentally why Percy would love such a pathetic sack of potatoes. And Felicity, I would hate him too, girl. He’s squandering the education you would kill for and he doesn’t even seem to understand why you’re upset about it. It’s baffling really, but probably too honest of a portrayal of privileged people today who don’t understand the blessings they have been given at birth because of skin color or sexuality or gender. *Cough*. But I digress.

        On that final note, The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue is a good read, honestly. If you love adventure, interesting characters, and visiting new cities, you will love this novel with it’s jokes, comments, and witty comebacks. If you can stomach Monty being a dick the entire novel like I did, you’ll find yourself immersed in a world that is similar yet different than the one we live in and how beautiful it is that we can traverse between the two with just a flick of a page.

 Recommendation: Roll your eyes at Monty’s stupidity like everyone else in the novel and then sit back with a blanket and a nice cup of tea to enjoy a cute love story, some interesting historical facts, and some inner reflections as you devour this fantasy adventure and all it entails.

 Score: 7/10

[chaunceyandchumleysdad]

RIOT FEST  Day 2, September 14, 2019

When I first saw the schedule for Saturday, based on bands that I am familiar with, it seemed like the weakest line up of the three days. However, as I started sampling music from the Day 2 bands, I came to realize that it was actually going to be a very good day. There were even some tough choices where I had to think long and hard about which band I wanted to see in certain time slots. The weather was awesome this day; blue skies and comfortable temperatures.

·         Monday Over Monarchy (Rebel stage) – This is a quarter of teenagers from Chicago that play what they call Basement Refrigerator Rock. In 2018, they were the winners of the Illinois Battle of the Bands. They played a good energetic set which included an excellent cover of The Stooges great Proto-Punk song I Wanna Be Your Dog. Watching them on stage, they reminded both my wife and I of our son’s band when they started out in high school, somewhat in sound and very much in stage presence.

·         Masked Intruder (Roots stage) – I wasn’t sure what to expect from this band from Madison, WI. I had not listened to them and thought they might be kind of gimmicky since their schtick is that they all wear different colored ski masks on stage. We caught the second half of their set because we went over to see The Hu at the adjoining Riot stage. This band turned out to be great! They played excellent Pop Punk and provided humorous banter between songs. While they all wore ski masks, once band member did not. He was dressed in a police uniform with short pants. He primarily danced around the stage and provided humorous mimes to the lyrics. Toward the end of the show, he stripped off the uniform and was wearing a Tarzan-like leotard that left little to the imagination. I wasn’t sure if he was a regular part of their act or if it was one of the Village People (who were playing Sunday) that perhaps Masked Intruder asked to join the show. At one point, they brought a young female fan on stage and she sang some of the lyrics to one of their songs. They were very entertaining and a pleasant surprise for me.

·         The Hu (Riot Stage) – Yes, their name sounds like the famous English Rock band. For me, this was the most interesting band of the weekend. A quartet rounded out by another quartet of touring musicians, this group from Mongolia are a Folk Metal band that play traditional Mongolian instruments as well as Rock instruments. Their style is kind of a heavy drone resplendent with Mongolian throat singing. It was very mesmerizing music. The fans were really into it, frequently chanting “Hu, Hu, Hu” between songs and the band’s vocalists happily joined in. They wore costumes that looked to be a mash-up of Heavy Metal garb and Mongolian Warrior attire.  They were rather menacing looking and I commented to my wife that they looked like they could kick the ass of any American male at the festival. However, we did see an older Mongolian lady in the soundstage pit filming the crowd with her camera. I had to assume it was one of The Hu moms. So maybe they are not that tough. 😉 Up to this point, they had only released some single songs, but they released their first full length album on the first day of Riot Fest. I have to believe that was no coincidence as this appearance at Riot Fest was their opportunity to gain an American following. It was a very cool show and while it meant missing Cleopatrick, I’m glad I caught this unique band.

·         Cherry Glazerr (Rise stage) – Good band from L.A. Kind of a Grunge/Punk sound. We wanted to get out of the sun for a bit so we sat back on the “chill hill” and listened to their set. Nice rockin’ set.

·         GWAR (Riot Stage) – I had to get my ten minutes of GWAR as I do each year. They are one of two acts (along with Andrew W.K.) that play Riot Fest every year. A theatrical Heavy Metal band who wear extreme science fiction costumes, they are humorous and fun to watch in small doses.

·         The Selecter (Radicals stage) – It was a late decision to see this band. I was planning on seeing Avail in this time slot. They were performing all of their great album Over The James. As I was having my morning coffee before heading to Douglas Park, I listened to Too Much Pressure, the debut album for The Selecter from 1980. It’s a great album, and since I was going to hear plenty of Punk over the weekend, I decided to forego Avail in favor of The Selecter. The band has gone through numerous personnel changes over the years but original lead female singer Pauline Black eventually gained the rights to the name and has kept the band going. She served as emcee and co-lead singer and the band blended an excellent sound. It was a bright sunny day and a bit of 2-Tone Ska was the perfect dance music under the late summer sun.

·         The Struts (Rise stage) – I had planned to see PVRIS in this time slot. Their album All We Know Of Heaven, All We Need Of Hell is excellent. The only thing I new about The Stuts was their song Body Talks. A few days before Riot Fest, I gave one of their albums a spin. My initial impression was, “meh, they sound like Queen imitators.” By the third song, they were growing on me and by the end of the album, I was loving their sound. I thought it would be fun to see some English Glam Rockers with an entertaining front man. That notion was reinforced earlier on Day 2 when my wife and I met a guy from Cleveland and he was talking about how great The Struts are live. And they were! Excellent good old Rock music with great vocals and superb “strutting” from Luke Spiller. He was adept at getting the crowd fired up as he sang and danced across the stage. Their 45-minute set just seemed too short. Hopefully I’ll catch PVRIS another time but I also wouldn’t mind seeing The Struts again at some point.

·         Manchester Orchestra (Rise stage) – The only album I really ever listened to by this band is Mean Everything To Nothing. I wanted to see them last year during my one day at Lollapalooza but somehow ended up missing them. I actually had not listened to that album in some time so I really had very little reference point for expectations. I think I thought they were a little more Indie sounding but they turned out to be edgier and more rocking than I had anticipated. And that suited me fine. They played an excellent set and I was happy I had this second chance at seeing them.

·         Bloc Party (Rise Stage) – While we had stood fairly close to the stage for the two previous bands, I was dragging a bit at this point and we retreated to the “chill hill” to kick back a bit while listening to this band. They were another band I had not listened to much, but I was a little familiar with their album Silent Alarm which they played in its entirety. It is a very good album and an enjoyable set for ending Day 2.

[hanalwayssolo]

This Sunday Currently, vol. 1

Finally, a much needed downtime of some sort after these rigorous couple of weeks. And I come bearing a list, or rather, my attempt on keeping track of things. 

I’ve been internally debating whether I should start this here or on my main, but I’ve made it explicitly clear that this is where I will keep everything I like (i.e. all shenanigans and filth), so my trash self won this round. Besides, this space is safer for my always anxious self, I think. Anyway. I’ve been seeing this around for quite some time, so I feel like hopping on the bandwagon and hopefully get around to maintain this as religiously as I can. *nervous sweating*

Reading

I’m halfway through Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and enjoying it immensely. Her writing is to die for, and the way she writes unforgiving truths so brazenly is freaking superb. Also, before that, I devoured Rainbow Rowell’s Landline in one sitting.

Writing

Technical gibberish for an infographic material at work. AND IT’S A SUNDAY? WOW?

Watching

I have been failing to catch up on any of my usual TV series as of late, except for The Handmaid’s Tale. I finished the book a couple of months back, and I. HAVE. SO. MANY. FEELINGS. FOR. THIS. SHOW. Genuinely impressed on how they were able to handle the important plot points, and my goodness, Elisabeth Moss plays Offred so perfectly. The cinematography! Is fucking eye-candy!

Playing

Distracting myself with Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Wildlands to wash away the emotional damage that is Episode Prompto, which I finished two days ago.

Man, Episode Prompto fucked me up big time. And I mean that in a good way, I guess, because I’m such a terrible person and I feast on angst like a vulture. And I see a lot of my insecurites in Prompto, so hello self, look who is fucking crying in front of the TV. 

I also can’t help but think about the parallels between Prompto and Sephiroth which I can’t properly articulate at this point. But I feel a mighty need to discuss this with someone or anyone at all, else I might end up writing a long ass character meta, lmao.

Listening

Obsessing over Persona 5′s soundtrack on work days, because it does wonders to my productivity. There is, also, a matter of my Episode Prompto Post-Depression mix, to cope with the wreckage that this DLC left behind, and to pay homage to my precious fictional sunshine home boy.

Thinking

My Taiwan trip in four days. Plans on… NaNoWriMo. And fucking hell how I’m going to fit all of these text boxes in my infographic layout, I MEAN???

Smelling

My doggo’s poop.

Wishing

For an anxiety-free month!

Hoping

…That I figure out how to have an anxiety-free month! Or if is that even possible, given the awkward bird that I am!

Wearing

Oversized shirt and shorts.

Loving

A lot of good writers around here, like, seriously. The FFXV fandom most especially. I sometimes feel like a total creep that I scroll down their blogs non-stop, but my dudes. Let me offer all of you a mixtape of my screaming, or a bottle of my tears, idk.

Wanting

Motivation! Ice cream! A real life Gladio!

Needing

…Motivation! Ice cream! But seriously, a real life Gladio won’t be so bad. Hehe. 

Feeling

A vague sense of dread. Also, ice cream.

Clicking

Haven’t been checking Tumblr as often now, so first order of business over this short lived weekend is to catch up on fics! So far, there’s @omnistruck’s Keep What Remains and @eternallydaydreaming2015‘s Prompto fics. Spoiler alert: Both are a godsend. It’s important to note that in my search for a good dose of Prompto, I’ve recently discovered @themissimmortal‘s Sunshowers fic, which again, I wolfed down up to the latest chapter. And of course, there’s @nifwrites A Mother’s Worry and Nothing But Time — the latter perfectly coupled with @cupnoodle-queen‘s Stranger to deliver that angst enough to rip my heart to shreds, and I LOVE IT.

The Sunday Currently was originally from SiddaThornton.

[placetobenation]

Dir: James Gray

Brad Pitt, Tommy Lee Jones, Ruth Negga, Donald Sutherland.

Released Sept 20, 2019 and now making the rounds on digital platforms and cable – I decided to revisit this movie starring Brad Pitt because it really underachieved at the box office and no one really knew what was going on.

After seeing it again, I still really don’t know what is going on. 

The film tanked at the box office. Costing $90 million to make and bringing in only $50 million in the USA – it was saved however, overseas. By the end of its international run, it had raked in just over $132.8 million globally. 

Brad Pitt plays an astronaut named Roy McBride, whose father, Cliff McBride was in charge of a mission to search for life beyond Earth. Intelligent or otherwise, the movie doesn’t really specify, which really is consistent with one of the huge faults of this film. All the science is just put to the wayside, I’m guessing to make way to focus on the relationship between father and son. 

Cliff (Tommy Lee Jones) McBride’s vessel is named Lima Project, and we know it went as far as Neptune before encountering some difficulties. One of those difficulties is a damaged antimatter battery which is sending powerful, destructive surges throughout the galaxy, even reaching Earth. Putting us and the planets around it in great danger, SpaceCom must send someone to retrieve it, fix it, or blow it up. I believe they choose the latter. First however, they must find it and find out if Cliff is still alive.

The best way to do that is to grab his son, Roy, (Brad Pitt) and start sending communications. Roy is sent to the Moon first, then to Mars, for the clearest communication possible. 

This film is not so much about space travel as it is about father and son. Big problem is, the father has gone crazy, and the son is so reserved and detached from life that his pulse never goes above 80 bpm. So the main object is to get these two together, but one has been in space so long he has gone mad, and the other is already detached from life that he never gets excited, passionate, mad or anything. That’s a tall order, and the film kind of sabotages itself. 

Besides technical glitches, like a vessel traveling 2 billion miles back to Earth from Neptune and Brad Pitt has no stasis chamber or meals or water or anything but a little stubble of a beard is kind of crazy. The journey should take 12 years, but somehow Brad does it in a matter of days. How? Who knows. 

Little problems like that are all over this film, because James Gray was trying to walk the two lines of science fiction and father/son redemption. Does Roy find his Dad? Sure, does it matter? Nope. Cliff never calls him son, he tells him he never loved him or his mother and then kills himself. I think that’s maybe when Roy’s pulse goes over 80bpm. 

The thing that is impressive here is the pacing and the set designs. The ships are beautiful, the planets look amazing, and they have “comfort rooms” that project soothing images like ocean waves and flying geese on all four walls. 

The pace is slow, like Kubrick, but the material is no where near as profound. Cliff was sent to look for life, found nothing, and thought himself a failure for coming up empty in space for 30 years. No supreme being, no non-intelligent life, nothing. Up comes “I feel nothing” Roy, and he just calmly kills a crew (all by accident) trying to get on the vessel that is going to see his father. 

There is no real connection with anything here. We don’t get a science connection, we don’t get a family connection, we don’t get a God connection and we don’t get a film about outer space connection. 

Mr Gray has been at this since 1994. He has been writing and directing, with no great success, yet no great failures, which is kind of exactly how this film feels. Ad Astra is not based on a book or a comic, it was completely thought up by Mr. Gray and tv writer Ethan Gross. 

Good parts of this movie is that it does have a beginning, middle and end, and the look of this film is superb. If you’re looking for Planet of the Apes or 2001 though, keep on looking. There is nothing even close to thought provoking here. Even father and son can not hug it out after 30 years of being apart. One thinks his 30 years of service was a total disaster, the other is locked away in his own head and can’t show emotions very well. 

Oh and Liv Tyler is here, but only for a very short amount time and her presence is meaningless. I guess she just wanted to see Brad Pitt up close.  

Thanks for reading – catch me every Thursday right here. 

[jenmedsbookreviews]

Now you may have seen a bit of buzz on social media in the past week and a bit. Why? Well because the lovely Karen Sullivan of Orenda Books has announced the dates and host bookshops for this years series of Orenda Roadshows. I for one am very excited as I love this time of year, and I know a number of my fellow booklovers and Orenda-shippers are equally as bouncy as me.

Orenda Roadshow Birmingham in 2019

So what is an Orenda Roadshow I hear (some of) you ask? This is the nationwide celebration of all things Orenda where you will find the largest number of authors in any one place, outside of a bog standard festival, talking about their books, sharing the book love and spending time with their readers. It is both informative and entertaining. Fun and a place for serious book purchasing. There is also the chance you may be able to pick up some not yet released titles as the authors prepare for their upcoming launches. You just don’t know.

To give you an idea what to expect, over the next few weekends I’m going to be resharing my round up of the last three years worth of Orenda Roadshows. Before I do though, here is the list of this years venues and the bookshops you need to stalk on Twitter and Facebook to keep abreast of the bookings opening.

24th February: Waterstones Glasgow 25th February: Drake the Bookshop, Stockton on Tees 26th February: Linghams Booksellers, Heswall 27th February: The Bookcase, Lowdham 28th February: Griffin Books, Penarth

Tickets are already on sale for Heswall and Glasgow so don’t delay. Book today. For those of you who are still undecided, let me tempt you some more with what happened at my first ever Orenda Roadshow in Liverpool, way back in 2017…

My Bookish Night Out Orenda Roadshow 2017

So Tuesday I decided to cash in a little annual leave and took the afternoon off to head off to Liverpool with my sister. Our destination? Waterstones at Liverpool One and the Orenda Books International Crime Fiction Roadshow.

Now, if you’re a follower of the blog (poor folks) you’ll probably have an inkling that I’m somewhat of a fan of Orenda Books’ authors. I’ve got to be honest; I haven’t read a duff book yet that Karen has backed and released. I was absolutely thrilled to see that she was going on tour with some of her crack team of writers, many of whom I’d already read and reviewed. Like – well 7.5 out of the 8 if I’m being honest, and it was only 0.5 of one because I have started the book but haven’t quite finished it yet. (This was true then – I’ve read 82 books now – they’re all fabulous)

It was a brilliant night, with the wonderful Karen Sullivan (@OrendaBooks) introducing her authors. They told us a little bit about their books as well as reading short excerpts from all eight novels, before answering a few questions about who inspires their work, where their ideas come from and, in the case of Steph Broadribb, giving us a little insight into the training she did as a Bounty Hunter as part of her research for her sensational debut, Deep Down Dead. There was also some debate over whether there was any pressure on authors to write ‘noir’ which led to an emphatic no from all parties and the agreement that they write what they want to read first, rather than being confined by genre expectations.

If you aren’t aware of the eight fabulous authors who were at the event (shame on you) then here is a little bit about each of their superb books which, in the words of Antti Tuomainen, are all ‘really good’ and are all ‘really cheap’. Trust me, you had to be there but this guy has a totally wicked sense of humour.

Thomas Enger – Reading from Cursed

Follow on Twitter: @EngerThomas

What secret would you kill to protect?

When Hedda Hellberg fails to return from a retreat in Italy, where she has been grieving for her recently dead father, her husband discovers that his wife’s life is tangled in mystery. Hedda never left Oslo, the retreat has no record of her and, what’s more, she appears to be connected to the death of an old man, gunned down on the first day of the hunting season in the depths of the Swedish forests.

Henning Juul becomes involved in the case when his ex-wife joins in the search for the missing woman, and the estranged pair find themselves enmeshed both in the murky secrets of one of Sweden’s wealthiest families, and in the painful truths surrounding the death of their own son.

With the loss of his son to deal with, as well as threats to his own life and to that of his ex-wife, Juul is prepared to risk everything to uncover a sinister maze of secrets that ultimately leads to the dark heart of European history.

Although this is book 4 in the series, you can read this as a standalone (though why would you want to). I really enjoyed Cursed, so much so that I went out to buy the first three before I’d made it even half way through. You can purchase Cursed here and also get a taste of what’s in store for you by reading my review, here.

Louise Beech reading from The Mountain In My Shoe

Follow on Twitter: @LouiseWriter

A missing boy. A missing book. A missing husband. A woman who must find them all to find herself.

On the night Bernadette finally has the courage to tell her domineering husband that she’s leaving, he doesn’t come home. Neither does Conor, the little boy she’s befriended for the past five years. Also missing is his lifebook, the only thing that holds the answers. With the help of Conor’s foster mum, Bernadette must face her own past, her husband’s secrets and a future she never dared imagine in order to find them all.

Exquisitely written and deeply touching, The Mountain in My Shoe is both a gripping psychological thriller and a powerful and emotive examination of the meaning of family … and just how far we’re willing to go for the people we love.

It was fantastic finally getting to meet Louise Beech although it was perhaps mildly disturbing that by the end of the night her ‘boobs’ seemed to be everywhere… 😉 You can purchase the brilliant The Mountain In My Shoe here and read my review here.

Steph Broadribb reading from Deep Down Dead

Follow on Twitter: @crimethrillgirl

Lori Anderson is as tough as they come, managing to keep her career as a fearless Florida bounty hunter separate from her role as single mother to nine-year-old Dakota, who suffers from leukaemia. But when the hospital bills start to rack up, she has no choice but to take her daughter along on a job that will make her a fast buck. And that’s when things start to go wrong.

The fugitive she’s assigned to haul back to court is none other than JT, Lori’s former mentor – the man who taught her everything she knows … the man who also knows the secrets of her murky past. Not only is JT fighting a child exploitation racket operating out of one of Florida’s biggest theme parks, Winter Wonderland, a place where ‘bad things never happen’, but he’s also mixed up with the powerful Miami Mob. With two fearsome foes on their tails, just three days to get JT back to Florida, and her daughter to protect, Lori has her work cut out for her. When they’re ambushed at a gas station, the stakes go from high to stratospheric, and things become personal.

What can you say about the woman who knows how to use a Taser? Why she’s fabulous of course. Completely fabulous. Actually, bounty hunter training aside, she really is pretty cool, an absolute fabulous blogger and has released one of the best debut novels I’ve ever read. You can purchase a copy here and read my review here.

Antti Tuomainen  reading from The Mine

Follow on Twitter: @antti_tuomainen

A hitman. A journalist. A family torn apart. Can he uncover the truth before it’s too late?

In the dead of winter, investigative reporter Janne Vuori sets out to uncover the truth about a mining company, whose illegal activities have created an environmental disaster in a small town in Northern Finland. When the company’s executives begin to die in a string of mysterious accidents, and Janne’s personal life starts to unravel, past meets present in a catastrophic series of events that could cost him his life. A traumatic story of family, a study in corruption, and a shocking reminder that secrets from the past can return to haunt us, with deadly results … The Mine is a gripping, beautifully written, terrifying and explosive thriller by the King of Helsinki Noir.

I absolutely loved reading this and it was brilliant listening to Antti reading the book in his native tongue. Have no idea what he said; in truth it could have been the local Chinese takeaway menu he was reading from, but it sounded good and the book is fabulous in any language. 😉 You can purchase The Mine here and read my review here.

Michael J Malone reading from A Suitable Lie

Follow on Twitter: @michaelJmalone1

Andy Boyd thinks he is the luckiest man alive. Widowed with a young child, after his wife dies in childbirth, he is certain that he will never again experience true love. Then he meets Anna.

Feisty, fun and beautiful, she’s his perfect match… And she loves his son, too. When Andy ends up in the hospital on his wedding night, he receives his first clue that Anna is not all that she seems. He ignores it; a dangerous mistake that could cost him everything.

A brave, deeply moving psychological thriller which marks a stunning departure for one of Scotland’s top crime writers.

For a read that turns the whole subject of domestic violence on its head while providing a truly emotionally engaging read, then look no further than this little beauty. You can purchase A Suitable Lie here and read my review here.

Kati Hiekkapelto reading from The Exiled

Follow on Twitter: @HiekkapeltoKati

Murder. Corruption. Dark secrets. A titanic wave of refugees. Can Anna solve a terrifying case that’s become personal?

Anna Fekete returns to the Balkan village of her birth for a relaxing summer holiday. But when her purse is stolen and the thief is found dead on the banks of the river, Anna is pulled into a murder case. Her investigation leads straight to her own family, to closely guarded secrets concealing a horrendous travesty of justice that threatens them all. As layer after layer of corruption, deceit and guilt are revealed, Anna is caught up in the refugee crisis spreading like wildfire across Europe. How long will it take before everything explodes?

This is book 3 in the Anna Fekete series but again it can be read as a standalone. This taps into the socio-economic issues affecting Europe as a whole, with a really emotive look at prejudice and the refugee crisis as Anna returns to her home village for a summer holiday. It’s a simply brilliant book and well worth a look – and with her love of punk, Kati has the best taste in neck wear ever. I know someone who would love her studded collar! You can purchase The Exiled here and read my review here.

Matt Johnson reading from Deadly Game

Follow on Twitter: @Matt_Johnson_UK

Reeling from the attempts on his life and that of his family, Police Inspector Robert Finlay returns to work to discover that any hope of a peaceful existence has been dashed. Assigned to investigate the Eastern European sex-slave industry just as a key witness is murdered. Finlay, along with his new partner Nina Brasov, finds himself facing a ruthless criminal gang, determined to keep control of the traffic of people into the UK.

Now I have only just listened to the audio book of Wicked Game, the first in the Robert Finlay series, on my recent trip to Edinburgh, so my review is going to be posted this weekend. Have to say though that I loved it. It tapped into everything I like about the action and thriller genre while displaying the emotion and authenticity that can only come from the author’s personal experiences. And Mr Johnson is a really nice chap too – such a pleasure to speak to him. In the meantime you can order Deadly Game here and perhaps pick up Wicked Game while you’re at it. Read my review of Deadly Game and Wicked Game if you’d like a taster

Matt Wesolowski reading from Six Stories

Follow on Twitter: @ConcreteKraken

1997. Scarclaw Fell. The body of teenager Tom Jeffries is found at an outward bound centre. Verdict? Misadventure. But not everyone is convinced. And the truth of what happened in the beautiful but eerie fell is locked in the memories of the tight-knit group of friends who took that fateful trip, and the flimsy testimony of those living nearby.

2017. Enter elusive investigative journalist Scott King, whose podcast examinations of complicated cases have rivalled the success of Serial, with his concealed identity making him a cult internet figure. In a series of six interviews, King attempts to work out how the dynamics of a group of idle teenagers conspired with the sinister legends surrounding the fell to result in Jeffries’ mysterious death. And who’s to blame… As every interview unveils a new revelation, you’ll be forced to work out for yourself how Tom Jeffries died, and who is telling the truth. A chilling, unpredictable and startling thriller, Six Stories is also a classic murder mystery with a modern twist, and a devastating ending.

One of Karen’s newest finds, Matt Wesolowski’s novel, Six Stories is currently available in e-book format with the paperback due for release on 15th March. You can purchase/preorder the book here and you read my thoughts on the book here.

It was an absolutely brilliant night and both Mandie and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Well worth the 160 mile round trip and braving the small rain shower to attend. And I may have purchased the odd one or two (or eight) books (again). After all, it’s the new internal grafitti that adds value and I never ever read any of my signed books…

Now tell me you don’t want to go to one of these roadshows this year. I do hope to see a few of you there. I’m going to be at all five, roving reporter stylee for our year of Orenda feature. Cannot wait. (My sincere apologies to all of the authors who will be sick of the sight of me by then end of the week …)

Have a brilliant weekend everyone.

Jen

Orenda Roadshows 2020 - A Preview @OrendaBooks #AYearOfOrenda Now you may have seen a bit of buzz on social media in the past week and a bit.

[topfygad]

OPTOMETRIST APPOINTMENT AND I ORDERED ME UP SOME NEW GLASSES

BUMBLE BEE ON A CLOVER FLOWER

A delightfully cool 50 levels when Pheebs and I headed out this morning.  Bonus.  A sunny however hazy morning with the climate individuals saying the slight haze is from forest fires in South Jap Manitoba and North Western Ontario.  With an Optometrist appointment at 11:30 Pheebs and I saved our morning drive brief.

TUGBOAT PUSHING A BARGE NEAR BAYFIELD’S BEACH

A FEW FISHERMEN ON THE PIER

HEADING OUT FOR A MORNING CRUISE

MILKWEED IN A GRAIN FIELD

EVEN DROVE OURSELVES THROUGH A SWAMP THIS MORNING

Leaving Pheebs at house I headed for my eye appointment at Clinton’s Huron Optometric.  Except cataracts the optometrist mentioned my eyes are in positive situation.  Stated they cannot do something concerning the cataracts till they get dangerous sufficient.  That might be just a few years away but.  My prescription has modified so I made a decision to get myself some new glasses.  The pair I’ve now I picked up in Wickenburg Arizona about 5 years in the past and the glasses woman in Goderich’s Huron Optometric this afternoon mentioned they’re actually scratched up.  Nicely that got here as no shock.  My new glasses shall be prepared in a couple of week and a half.  Though they are going to enhance my imaginative and prescient considerably I’ll nonetheless should put up with the cataract imaginative and prescient drawback for just a few extra years but:((

AFTER A STOP AT  THE GODERICH OPTOMETRIC PLACE I TOOK A SWING DOWN AROUND THE HARBOUR

ENJOYING A NICE DAY AT THE BEACH

SPOTTED THIS CAR IN GODERICH

Taking a short lived break from my many World Battle 2 historical past oriented books I made a decision to modify gears for my subsequent ebook.  Staying with non-fiction in fact I settled on a ebook by Marc Meyers entitled ‘Anatomy Of A Song‘.  It is the oral historical past of 45 iconic hits that modified Rock, R&B, and Pop.  A behind the scenes and backstory of how a variety of hit songs all happened and took form.  I discover it fascinating to learn how these songs had been written and the circumstances concerned round getting them from the ‘concept stage’ to the ‘on air’ stage.  Not solely lots of work concerned however a complete lot of luck as properly.  I’ve simply began the ebook which begins within the 50’s and goes from there.  Actually superb to see how every hit music got here to be.  I am at Dion’s music ‘Run Round Sue’ in the mean time.  For me with my curiosity in music that is nice stuff………….

GROANER’S CORNER:((  An aged man went to his physician and mentioned, “Doc, I believe I am getting senile. A number of occasions recently, I’ve forgotten to zip up.””That is not senility,” replied the physician. “Senility is if you neglect to zip down.” ——————– I am gonna go stand exterior, so if anyone asks are you able to simply say I’m excellent. ——————— A policeman stops a girl and asks for her license. He says “Girl, it says right here that you need to be sporting glasses.  “The girl answered “Nicely, I’ve contacts.  “The policeman replied “I do not care who you recognize! You are still getting a ticket!” =======================

TAGS: APPOINTMENTGLASSESOPTOMETRISTORDERED

from Cheapr Travels https://ift.tt/2YMgLlk via https://ift.tt/2NIqXKN

[careergrowthblog]

10 Steps for Reviewing Your KS3 Curriculum

Now that schools are getting into the swing of the new GCSEs and KS3 assessment continues to present various challenges, it’s natural that a lot more attention is being given to the curriculum content at KS3.  Of course some will say that Ofsted’s much-trailed renewed interest in curriculum is playing a part too – but I’ve been seeing this process underway in many schools since way before Ofsted started talking about its framework.

Some schools have the luxury – or challenge, depending on how you see it – of starting fresh with a new school, building a curriculum from scratch.   Most schools will be starting with a messy legacy slate, rather than a clean one and it can be hard to know where to begin.  Some school leaders will have a crystal clear vision for the curriculum of their dreams; for others, it’s just not where their expertise lies and it can be incredibly daunting.  Here is my guide to how to go about it, assuming you’re more towards the ‘somewhat daunted’ category.

1. Develop a deeper knowledge of the detail of the curriculum you already deliver. 

This really is a good place to start.  If you don’t consider yourself a curriculum expert, the first step is to find out exactly is going on in your school and start to form a deeper understanding and wider set of opinions about it.  Beyond any data of any kind, what do your students actually learn about? What concepts and experiments do they do in science? Which books do they read in Year 8 in English? What periods of history are studied in Year 9 ? Which artists are covered in Year 7?  It’s important to know – and to care about the answers.

In my previous school we undertook this first-round mapping and it was fascinating. https://teacherhead.com/2016/07/02/emerging-ks3-curriculum-map-and-exhibition-plan/

The next round of questions is ‘why?’ What’s the rationale for the decisions that have been taken – if there is one? If you check, you can also see how it links to what it says in the national curriculum documentation: how does all that blurb come to life in reality?   As you get into the detail, you develop a clearer picture of the learning experience your school actually delivers.  It’s not a set of GCSE results and report grades – it’s all the knowledge that flows from the curriculum – and it can be a revelation to find out what content your own school actually delivers.

2. Look at examples of other curriculum models for reference

It’s so easy to work through a school system with a narrow view of what is possible in curriculum terms based on our own limited experience.  So, an important task is to get your hands on the curriculum models and materials from elsewhere.  You can see my 40 models  from 2017 for example – at the macro timetable level –  but really I’m talking about getting to see what other schools teach in English, in history, in art, in science.. find out what else goes on and take a view of yours compared to theirs. Of course each Head of Department can do this for their own subject and the results can be pooled.

3. Develop a set of principles informed by the initial explorations, with input from a range of stakeholders, linked to an iterative consultation process. 

Once you have a feel for your curriculum as it is, informed in part by feedback from parents, teachers and students, you’ll have a better sense of what your values are.  How important are languages, history, art and music, dance, food tech, Latin, PE? How important is it that Shakespeare is studied in depth or Dickens…. or 20th Century fiction or a range of classical music or history beyond the UK? It’s very hard to make good decisions if you don’t know what your red lines are around some of these choices.   It’s also important to decide who decides! Does the English department get to pick the texts or do other people get their say? It’s not about trust; it’s about a shared ownership of the curriculum.

4. Develop some alternative models for the overall time allocation structure, in parallel with the subject review process to allow for interplay. 

I’ve written up one walk-through of the though process here. and here’s a summary of the outcome.

In purely pragmatic terms alone, it’s obvious that you allocate time at least partly in line with the value you place on different subjects.  However, there are numerous structures to explore including carousels and so on.  I’m a fan of the Year 9 bridging year, lots of time for MFL and four options at KS4 – but that’s me.  As with many things, it can help to look at 3 or 4 contrasting options to work out which you prefer and if anyone doesn’t like an idea – they need a better total solution, not to simply lobby for more time for one subject.

Of course you can’t plan the detail of a curriculum if you’re unsure how much time you’re going to get to deliver it in – so there needs to be some interplay between the macro planning and the detailed subject review process.

5.  Create a review process within each subject area – ensuring the capacity is there to deliver a strong outcome, starting big picture, then drilling down to the detail.

This is the meat of the process; the core: each subject needs to undertake a ground-up review of what is taught at KS3.  This should build up from fundamental concepts, the overarching narrative structure – ie how the story of the curriculum unfolds year to year –  what content to deliver, what to leave out delivering a justifiable balance of breadth and depth. What happens at KS2 and KS4 will be influences – but ideally there will be a rationale for the KS3 curriculum on its own terms.   It’s an important process of any subject leader to undertake.

Leaders and their teams will need time allocated for this process – several sessions sequenced across 12-18 months and that all needs planning.  Some teams will relish the challenge and produce a superb outcome. However, it might be that some teams need a lot more guidance – it’s naive to assume everyone has the knowledge and confidence to build a curriculum from scratch – so it will be worth looking for external sources or curriculum designs that might provide the guidance people need.

6. Map the curriculum in a raw state based on each subject’s preferred curriculum 

Once you have a set of curriculum strands developing, written from the perspective of  each subject discipline, it’s possible to bring them together and see what it all adds up to. It’s really helpful if everyone has used a similar format and similar levels of detail at any given stage so you can look across in terms of time and see if common elements are present.   With a clear structure, you can start to look at the overall diet for each year group and check that there is a degree of coherence between subjects, with themes and connections emerging rather than being imposed.

7. Look for authentic links between subjects that might support deeper curriculum ties and inter-disciplinary learning. 

I’m a firm believer that authentic links that emerge from subject disciplines designed on their own terms are better than those forced onto subjects, constraining or distorting them.  Once an overall map is produced, subject leaders and teachers can look to see where they can cooperate, coordinate and co-plan so that the curriculum strands interweave.  Sometimes, as in the illustration below, it can be case of trading specific content areas to avoid unnecessary overlap; at other times, it can be good to teach something from different perspectives, always conscious of what the other perspectives are.

8. Map a range of set-piece learning experiences and entitlements that run across subjects, making adjustments, filling in gaps. 

Here you are looking to see whether anything falls between the gaps of each subject planning in isolation.   This might include large-scale residentials,  theatre production projects, inter-disciplinary projects, large-scale community projects,  short-run units ( eg on coding, learning an instrument, debating.. whatever).  These things become embedded in the curriculum and everyone needs to see where they fit.

9. Review the curriculum by subject and whole-school from an assessment perspective, matching authentic assessment opportunities to the flow of the curriculum.

As the curriculum comes together, this is the opportunity to see where assessments fit best to support learning.  It’s a nightmare when the assessment tail wags the curriculum dog, so here’s your chance to get things straight.  If you have an overview of the flow of units across the curriculum you can see the impact of imposing centralised data-drops at certain times.  You can also check that each department has a sensible flow of assessments and manageable, meaningful tracking to inform their teaching and reporting.

10.  Review the curriculum vertically and horizontally (by subject and by year group) through various lines of enquiry: reading, homework, access to knowledge resources, speaking and listening, checking that the overall roadmap has clarity and coherence.  

Finally, look across the curriculum for year groups and along the subject sequences to evaluate whether the overall diet of certain features you value is present and coherent.  This might include the diet of reading, ‘oracy’, open-ended response projects, ‘hands-on’ making, opportunities to be creative and pursue personal lines of enquiry, homework… and so on.  Some things only need to be included once in one part of the curriculum;  others should be embedded throughout. The mapping and review process will show you the for tweaking or whole-scale change.

It’s important to give your school a good length of time for this and to create opportunities for all staff and for parents to get a look-in – so they can see what’s coming.

Good luck with it! It’s probably one of the most rewarding and impactful things you’ll ever do.

            10 Steps for Reviewing Your KS3 Curriculum published first on https://medium.com/@KDUUniversityCollege

[victoryliononline]

Anita Desai: Every once in a while, a short story pursues you

As the writer becomes 80, she reflects on how tales briefly told are currently under wont of returning

I was always a scribbler. As soon as I was coached the alphabet I pent even before I could spell so that I was always persecuting everybody in private households( includes the cook who knew no English) How do you spell live? How do you spell tree, flame, fledgling, fish?( He responded by making me a superb offering on my birthday of an inkwell carved out of soft soapstone, which I unfortunately spoilt by running real ink into that tender, decorative object .) I crowded notebook after notebook sat on a cane stool at my round light-green table and was named, with an understandably resigned sigh, The Writer in the Family.

What was I writing? Consciously, with awareness and meaning, relatively limited. I simply had an implore to make all that is I considered, hear and experienced on paper, in ink. I had little awareness of categories journals were bibles to me, the imposing leather-bound bibles behind the glass on my mothers bookshelves, the shabby, dog-eared paperbacks on my siblings shelves, and the exciting, inviting ones in all their diversification in the bookshop where I devoted my pocket money. I cant remember when I learned to differentiate between the short story and the novel no, actually, I can: it was when I first decided to send a piece out to be published( producing was important, I knew writing had to be in etch if it was to earn its mention ), and it was, of course, of a short section to fit into a magazine or magazine. But I was also always writing at length with the idea of a book, a suitable record, in my thinker, and a part of me concluded short floors to be neglected novels.

But a short story is not a failed fiction any more than a novella is an extended short story. Each has only one altogether different specified of such standards and upshots. Length is one of them, but portions run wildly. As Hortense Calisher mentioned, How long should a short story be? As long as a piece of string. I mean to tie down the allotment with. I like her practical, workmanlike coming, but there is, in addition, the element of possibility. How did one section I pent be brought to an end a short story, another increase, unwrap itself, saunter, digress and crusade on to a track, a road to a further destination novella, or novel?

It is all a matter of instinct, certainly, and expedition a conviction that dawns on one, while one drives, that one has said what one set out to say: there is no need to go further. It may be really one tiny chapter, stumbled on unusually, a glimpse out of a opening, the transgression of light on one object while bypassing another, that opens one pause and for some reason is not forgotten. Why has it stayed in the mind when so many other thoughts, encounters and know-hows have turned into a blur and disappeared? And when one has acquired the responses to that the tale is done. It can come to one swiftly or it may take long, very long, to discover. In the short story, it need not be pursued further. Many scribes have commented on its identity being closer to a rhyme than a novels.

I have written only a few short fibs that have me with that sensation that one craves: Ah, I have done what I set out to do , no more is needed. The legends that constitute my new mustered volume are those that I objective on that note. For the most side, I have taken longer and watched the stone Id flung into the pond procreate ripples that diversify considerably, reverberation on gurgle, arc on arc, struggling to reach the far coast, and pondered: where will this get? How will it end? And that search has turned into a novel.

It is the latter mode that I have mostly espouse. It is the one that renders space both dangerous and forgiving, and lays one open to what may be years of discouragement, gloom, incredulity and segregation while one considers alternatives, makes one tack and then another, sees missteps, redresses them, picks oneself up and strives on, only gradually building up the momentum needed for narrative. But while to participate in so much better that is baffle and exhausting, one may be granted briefly and sporadically that inexplicable breath of breeze that comes up unusually, generate a ruffle, a incite, a ebb that lunges one send and routes one soaring, voyaging, hovering through space and time.

It is the pursuit of that elusive and inexplicable sensation that one attempts in the short story, so different a structure. Instead of those long pulls in which a novelist becomes stranded, the short-story columnist must launch forth on what is a high-wire behave, refusing to look back or down into the abyss, running the length of it at a sprint so as not to lose balance: rapid, quick before you fall! You may go back and start all over again, or change sentences and places, but that initial suggest must maintain its necessity from beginning to end.

Lightning that lampoons the light,

Brief even as bright. Percy Bysshe Shelley

In this, the short story is the more challenging shape as I realised when I had the temerity to coach the the time of writing of it to students who came to the creation of fiction as ended apprentices, simply because it was easier to fit into the room of a class, a call that length of cord again. But it was the awfully brevity and limited of the word that required talent, learning and understanding to make it labor, ie, to compose the desired effect.

But every once in a while, when completing that frenetic dash of the short story, even after this is the case in print, one finds it wont “lets get going” of one. It haunts one or, rather, one follows it because there is more to be said, more to be probed into, detected and disclosed. So every once in a while I have found, times and year later, a short story written long ago insisting on becoming a novel.

It is the experience I had when I wrote the short story The Accompanist. I detected then that I had put on paper all I knew very little about that minor figure of the melodic life, the musician in the background, barely detected, all tending being given to the maestro, the soloist. Was he content for it to be so?

Was he or not? There was so much in the life and exertion of that overlooked creator, and I wrote the novel In Custody to give him his due, although I changed the two personas into a poet and student. And again, eventually still, into the novella Translator Translated . One of my earliest short-lived narratives, Scholar and Gypsy, eventually carried on a whole new life as the romance Journey to Ithaca , something I did not even know until a book pointed out the development of the theme: the difference between the specific characteristics who appears the world is all we need and the specific characteristics for whom the world is limited; beyond it there surely lies more. The sought for that other world physical or spiritual that impels them on their tour, had carried on from the short story into the novel as a cartoon might lead to a draw. This subterranean element rising to the surface astonished me, I had not been is cognizant of that development.

Each form requires a different situate of cleverness, even cloths as an creator might necessity pencil or pen and ink, or watercolours or lubricants for one slog or another. Brevity and concision will do for one, while the other involves skepticism, mystery, mistake and staman. If one writes both, which affords the greater enjoyment? Now one , now the other that is the only answer.

The Complete Stories by Anita Desai issued by Penguin. To seek a facsimile for 14.44( RRP 16.99) go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p& p over 10, online fiats exclusively. Phone says min p& p of 1.99.

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