Gillian in the bathroom, vet tomorrow; Once Upon a Time and paper stars made of books

Fuck me but LJ just erased my finished post. So, short form:

Gillian in the bathroom. We scared and betrayed her by taking her into the house and past the dog, and yet she is alive. And occasionally yowling. No really she's fine; she still loves cuddles.

Vet visit tomorrow, 10:40a. Good wishes welcome; please don't ask "what will you do if she's microchipped?" because the answer is I HATE YOU. Best outcome: no microchip, no major diseases, is neutered, sexes female just 'cause; flea treatment, two weeks in the box to adjust to being inside and having discrete feeding times and to check for a URI, etc. Worst outcome: heartbreak, etc.; am I being forced to give her back to the bastards that declawed her, etc. There's nothing I can do about those fears, so I'm ignoring them.

Watching mediocre TV instead—Once Upon a Time. Early verdict: yay fairytales, some lovely characters (Snow White, yes; Rumpelstiltskin is growing on me), decent balance episodic/overarching; boo whitey white white suburban yaaaawn, and there's a lot of reliance of face recognition between the two settings and I've got none of that let me tell you.

While watching, making paper stars out of book pages, also known as fulfilling a longtime dream. The book is one I hated, and is way too acclaimed/popular for this copy to have any absolute value; I've had to elide a dozen sex scenes so far, so help me, but the stars look lovely. It's fantastic busywork, which is just what I need.

Imagine that with a lot more grace and much less brevity, and that's about what I wrote the first time.

Book Review: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

Title: Northanger Abbey
Author: Jane Austen
Published: New York: Penguin Books, 1995 (1818)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 219 novel, 386 total
Total Page Count: 117,491
Text Number: 341
Read Because: fan of gothic literature, purchased from The Book Bin
Review: Come to Bath for the season, 17-year-old Catherine discovers friends who will educate her socially and falls in with the Tilney siblings, who live in an intriguing Gothic abbey. To call Northanger Abbey a Gothic satire (as I was introduced to it) is to overlook over half the book, which concerns itself with the social tableau of Bath and Catherine's evolving role and relationships within; this section draws on predecessors such as Frances Burney, whose work—while not unknown—is not so popular or culturally known today as Radcliffe's Gothic novels which inspire much else of the book. As such, Northanger Abbey can feel like two books uneasily combined into one; furthermore, it's exceedingly self-aware, which is both its joy and damnation. The book has a shifting focus, its satire is often heavy-handed, it demands self- and genre-awareness from the reader (yet its brevity and tone make it something of a pleasure read), but at its best it distills its genres critically and with great love. Northanger Abbey mocks the expectations of a heroine and the limitation of its own, yet creates an enduring and convincingly adolescent figure in Catherine; its social interactions can be frankly frustrating, but the dialog shines; it revels in the tritest of Gothic clichés, then mocks the reader who over-indulges in them, yet embraces the emotional sensitivity that underlies the impulse. To my surprise, this is the most success I've had with Austen. It's too much of a niche taste, and begs too much background knowledge, for me to recommend it outright. But in the end, the best satires require love: love enough to know, and engage, and represent the beloved; to make something of it which is incisive but meaningful. Northanger Abbey has that, and won my love in return.

Review posted here on Amazon.com.