juushika

Title: Spock's World (Star Trek: The Original Series)
Author: Diane Duane
Published: Pocket Books, 2001 (1988)
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 365
Total Page Count: 291,500
Text Number: 955
Read Because: recommended by amberite, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Vulcan debates seceding the Federation; the narrative takes a deep dive into the planet and the people's origins. Both of the Duane Star Trek spinoffs I've read impress me with their minutiae and scope, things the source material lacks as a matter of course. (It works as often as not—it doesn't feel particularly like Star Trek, but expands on things I wish the series could have explored.) It's a natural fit to an ethnography of Vulcan, although in combination with a political/low-action A-plot and episodic historical B-plot it can read as distant and slow. But it's always thoughtful—although I don't always agree, particularly as regards emotion. It sounds good on paper, particularly reframing things as a mastery of emotion rather than an absence or suppression of emotion; but in actuality, contemporary Vulcan emotion feels too frivolous and historical Vulcan emotion too tame—there's a lack of tension and therefore justification for Vulcan practice (and, well, the book itself). But it kept me thinking about that tension, about where it should lie and how it could be better expressed, about the line between cultural practice and sociological necessity, about the line between mastery and repression. I'd call this more engaging than successful, but I'm glad I read it.


Title: Miss Rumphius
Author: Barbara Cooney
Published: Puffin Books, 1985
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 30
Total Page Count: 291,530
Text Number: 956
Read Because: discussed by phoenixfalls, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Miss Rumphius is a woman with three goals: to travel the world; to live in a house on the coast; to leave the world more beautiful than she found it. This is a picture book from my childhood which, too my delight, holds up. It hasn't aged perfectly*, but the gentle exploration of selfhood and personal joy and forms of engagement with the world is accessible and gently idealized; set against the remarkable art, with dreamy pale colors and precise, detailed acrylics, it's evocative and wishful. And it was gently formative to my young self: the beauties we create in the world may seem strange to others, but they have value.

( Minor spoiler. )


Title: Three Quarters: A Quarters Collection (Quarters Book 5)
Author: Tanya Huff
Published: JABberwocky Literary Agency, 2016
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 100
Total Page Count: 292,345
Text Number: 960
Read Because: continuing the series, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Three short stories set in the Quarters universe. Two are about Bannon and Vree prior to their appearance in the books; the first is the best of the collection, an unambitious but enjoyable assassination story that engages the aspects of their dynamic I love, but the other leans towards humor and is less successful on account. The last is about a younger, able-bodied Evicka, and relies on a miscommunication trope which I find particularly tiresome. I usually avoid tie-in short stories, even for series I like, especially when the stories are written for themed anthologies, because they aren't as fulfilling as a novel. I should have followed that instinct here. These are fine, but only that.

Devon and I have been rewatching Star Trek: TOS for no particular reason other than to gently spite Star Trek: Discovery; today was 1.9 "Dagger of the Mind." I like to imagine an alternate-Trek (aside from the always-superior DS9*) where all the throwaway arcs/reveals have lasting consequences, like a Voyager where Harry Kim has to process the profound trauma of "parallel-me died and then I took his place," facing his mortality, his sense of alienation—which would be significantly less fun than already questionably-fun Voyager, but would bring such depth to his character! Likewise, a TOS where Kirk is still and forever in love with Helen Noel, but she's lost to him in multiple ways: the implanted memory of losing her, but also the conscious knowledge that even his love was implanted. He's grateful when she leaves the Enterprise—it can't really make him more sad, and it alleviates at the least the awkwardness—but he never forgets her. He has many other relationships, some meaningful, some not at all; and his dedication to the Enterprise takes priority over everything, which causes no end of internal conflict; and his relationship with Spock is as profound and as conflicted, complicated here by Spock's Vulcan identity. It doesn't end his life or his relationships, but Helen Noel in the background of everything, the one that got away whom he never had in the first place.

An easy canon solution is that before leaving Tantalus V he has someone use the same machine to correct his memory, but my version has a lot more angst and self-doubt and questions of identity/memory/relationships and is therefore superior.

When I first watched TOS some few years ago, I read along with the rewatches on Viewscreen.com. I'm only glancing at them this time, but it was a fantastic experience then & I still enjoy them now. The mix of trivia/minutiae to summary/off the cuff reaction to social commentary/media criticism is strong, in a readable, casual way. Torie Atkinson's sections are especially fantastic, and helped me contextualize my complicated responses to dated-but-progressive media. To accompany TNG and DS9 rewatches I just read the Memory Alpha pages; that's also satisfying, but is a) way more spoiler-y and b) heavier on the minutiae. Glimpses into production/actors enrich the text in interesting ways, but it's not quite on par with that feeling of pseudo-conversation that comes with a watch-along.

* Although DS9 would also hugely benefit from this! Imagine Jadzia Dax in particular, and Dax in general, who's always willing to disregard convention and society to fulfill a strong personal desire, but in particular falls into "leave the rest of the world behind to live in a pocket dimension/go into exile" love multiple times. These all function as once in a lifetime romances, True Love, etc.—then 3.8 "Meridian" and 4.6 "Rejoined" are never mentioned again as per Star Trek's episodic tradition, and Worf becomes the One True Love. But imagine the Jadzia who not only carries many lifetimes of romances, and struggles with the reassociation taboo, but also is in love, passionate life-altering-love, with multiple people, some she marries, some she can't see again; a Jadzia grieving and loving and missing in overlapping and simultaneous intensity. Alternately: she doesn't change her life for these life-changing loves because the show needs more continuity than that. If not for that limitation, how does she pick—is it first come/first serve, pocket dimension/exile? is it wrestling with Klingon courtship practices while exiled from your homeworld? These are some great tensions & I wish DS9 could've had them.


* * *


Asides:

1) I'm trying to work on my Best of 2018 list with mixed results re: wowowowwww this year has been seven years long, and there was great media, and many forgotten media, at at least one favorite thing I forgot to review, and I want to make none of these trips down memory lane because it was also a phenomenally awful year. It's exhausting to write.

2) My sleep schedule has flipped around and/or is walking around the clock, external factors (like screaming cats/visitors to the house) excepted. I find it easier to stay distracted at night, and have more co-dependent anxiety when waiting for Devon to come home in the afternoon. Things are up in the air for us right now as he makes applications, and I dream of moving to Canada/Sweden/the Moon ( Read more... ) and we wait for the future to happen. And in the meantime, this between-time, the end of the year change-time, my anxiety is particularly bad. So in many respects this makes sense—waking at 5p is productive, even healthy/ier than alternatives! despite the forever-shame that comes with weird sleep habits. It's still surreal, to nap at sunrise, to sleep through the middle of the day. The cats don't enjoy or understand it, but then they haven't liked any damn thing about this living arrangement except that Gillian believes Devon many times more interesting and better for cuddles than I am.

3) Via minutia_r, in one of the more delightful "I saw this and thought of you" that I've ever received: Okay, it's time to tell a Story: "how cannibalism was just a normal thing for Victorian sailors & how it was only in 1884 that it was made clear to everyone that it wasn't legal to eat people no matter what the circumstances, and how the Victorian public were Very Angry about it."

I hadn't heard of this case before and it's as fascinating as expected! Further reading via Wikipedia: R v Dudley and Stephens.

Because 2018 was a real bad year, and because I'm lazy, I didn't keep any log of what I watched; but as consider writing my best of 2018 list, it occurs to me that it would be useful to know what I watched. This is recreated from my Tumblr and Netflix logs and (ahaha) ""memory.""" It's in only the barest chronological order and doesn't particularly resemble the capsule reviews I usually write for my watch logs, but it's better than nothing.

Star Trek: Deep Space 9, television, 1993-1999
A rewatch, and technically started last year, but this was a huge chunk of my watching and inarguably the most important thing I watched this year. It holds up phenomenally well. I did some liveblogging of this which I'll crosspost later, but: the best if a good franchise, easily; very important to me; difficult and healing to watch while coping with my dad's illness.

Coco, film, 2017
This is vibrant and diverse; and I hate the romanticization of street dogs and the "unconditionally forgive your abuse family members & then they'll reveal they've changed their ways" message. Does one outweigh another? I'm not sure.

Altered Carbon s1, television, 2018
100% there for the aesthetic alone. Unconvinced that the rest, the writing, the representation, is good. But it's indulgent AF cyberpunk.

The Good Place s1-2, television, 2016-2018
This is consistently superb: the pacing, the writing, the casting, the humor (and I hate humor!). It sincerely surprised me, in productive ways. It's one of those rare shows that gives me nothing to criticize. The only reason we haven't watched any of s3 is because I never watch things while they're airing.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherood up to about episode 30?, anime, 2009
Perhaps I'm insufficiently versed, but this doesn't feel distinctly, obviously better than the old FMA anime; still enjoying it, and appreciate the whiplashy balance of humor to sudden grimness. Only paused this because it's hard for me to watch a lot of subs.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2., film, 2017
Those playing along at home may remember that I've largely given up on Marvel universe on account of "not my thing." By all rights, this should be likewise. But Lindsay Ellis spoke on it convincingly enough that I made an exception, and I don't regret it. The throughline here of abuse and found families is sincerely well rendered—who knew! Hasn't really changed my mind re: Marvel, tho.

Some of Lost in Space, television, 2018
Enough to realize it was boring, and then an unfortunate little bit more.

Beauty and The Beast, film, 2017
Boring, bad CG, added nothing of value; but watchable I guess.

Dark s1, television, 2018
This has a phenomenal aesthetic and sense of place and set of images; the plot is profoundly tedious and I take issue with false rape accusation as narrative device. I was unsure after finishing if I'd watch s2, but with a few months of distance I am even less tempted.

Voltron: Legendary Defender s5-7, television, 2018
(We will probably have watched s8 by the end of the year.) I consistently enjoy this for its vivid science fantasy world and engaging character dynamics. It has too much filler, but the overall balance of humor to grim character growth is successful. Bury your gays was an obvious misstep which goes against everything this series has been aiming for in its casting; again, how does it balance? I'm not sure. But this remains popcorn watching & the only for-kids thing I've enjoyed lately.

Wynonna Earp s1-2, television, 2016-2017
A welcome mirror-twin to Supernatural; better representation, great camp, pretty, oh so pretty, pretty, and only as witty as a show of its type, but absolutely gay. Tumblr tags: #it's trash but no moreso than other shows of its kind; the special effects are ridiculous b/c SyFy #but it's the purest example of that 'indeterminate midwestern metrosexual redneck' aesthetic that I've found #everything is so overdesigned but in a grungy way! Bobo Del Ray's character design is a gift! the landscape is golden and long #and there's an abandoned homestead & dead trees in the background & and when in doubt: decorate with skulls #like a southern gothic playlist with those same 15 (beloved) songs come to life & coincidentally that's also the soundtrack #I want to LIVE THERE

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, television, 2018
I love how this is filmed, how stupidly excessive is its aesthetic. The writing is pretty trash, and these made-for-Netflix shows have got to figure out that the chance to make actually-hour-long episodes means that each episode should be more beefy. Shrug. Will continue to watch in the attempt to project myself into the sets.

Black Mirror s4, television, 2017
Never again will we have the San Junipero time. This season was trash, most seasons are trash for the same reason—obvious and/or reactive social commentary couched in slick but inconsistent styling. It did however prompt:

( Some thoughts on intrusive thoughts in speculative and dystopic settings. )

The Ritual, film, 2017
Good setting, good monster design, meh narrative, and the last outweighs. ( Longer thoughts via tumblr. )

The Witch, film, 2015
The longer this sat with me, the more I liked it. The gritty tedium of the setting makes for a slow pace, but it's one of those films where the ending creeps up, builds up, and then revitalizes all the came before. Beautiful, too; well cast.

ETA: Over the Garden Wall, television, 2014
I don't think I loved this as much as most people do—it was still a little too slight, too funny for me—but what a phenomenal aesthetic and atmosphere; what a great thing to finally watch at exactly the Halloween times.

Killing Eve s1, television, 2018
I enjoyed the hell out of this. It doesn't have the same angle of indulgence as Hannibal, but 1) ladies and 2) the beats of humor/violence (as opposed to aesthetic/violence) add to the conversation, bring new things. Sandra Oh is phenomenal. A good show, will continue watching.

Some of Supernatural s13, television, 2017-2018
"Some of" being a sign that this season hasn't especially captured me, moreso even than the usual baseline of trash TV. I will finish it/the entire show eventually, now that we know it's ending.

Great British Bake Off, television
We watched & (for me) rewatched everything they have on Netflix. The Channel 4 switch suffers hugely, but the bad version of the best and perhaps only good reality show is still strong, and nothing equals this, nothing else is as perfectly soothing. I had a really shitty year and this helped me escape some of that, for which I'm grateful.

Skins Wars s1-3, television, 2014-2016
We watched this to try to fill a GBBO-shaped void, with minimal success. People making things good; American/reality TV bad. The competitive angle steals too much screentime from watching art being made. What really gets me is the financial angle, the "watching people be desperate for money as a form of entertainment" aspect; it's gross and disheartening and, after GBBO? gross and disheartening is the opposite of what I want.

Star Trek: Discovery, television, 2017-2018
I've been trying to fight the knee-jerk reaction of "change is bad" and "old things are better" (although Trek for me isn't just nostalgia—I rewatched them all [except Enterprise] within the last 5 years), and this certainly is watchable, but I'm unconvinced that it's good. Really strong cast; middling writing; weak aesthetic (so blue! the camera doesn't like it, my eyes don't like, it makes the universe so samey). & I feel like the desire to create a stronger, darker overarching story is not new to the Trek universe—is in fact DS9, and they should take pointers from it re: how to pace episodic and overarching. Also the Klingons are very bad. I dig that they speak in Klingon, but it's so slow & phonetic as to be glaring, and, again: work to bring depth to this race has been done! they should build on it, not undermine it! Discovery is fine and I don't regret that it exists, but it's not good, and I want good.

Title: Dark Mirror (Star Trek: The Next Generation)
Author: Diane Duane
Published: Pocket Books, 1993
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 340
Total Page Count: 248,595
Text Number: 794
Read Because: mentioned here, used paperback purchased from the Book Bin
Review: At the edge of the galaxy, the Enterprise is pulled into the mirror universe by its predatory counterpart. This is my first time reading a spin-off novel for any franchise, which can't help but color my experience; seeing a franchise adapted to text is as interesting as the story itself. A novel allows for significantly more interiority and infodumping. Of the latter there's plenty, not delivered with exceptional grace but building a more thorough view of the mirror universe, particularly its history; it feels somewhat reductionist, but given context perhaps it has to be, and it does satisfy the itch for more information. The interiority is welcome, and is most robust in Picard but especially Troi, whose double is the best developed and most compelling; this is where the concept graduates from the broad fear of one's own worst tendencies and develops into a conflicted admiration/jealousy/fear of the selves one might have been—especially interesting in a character so association with emotions as is Troi. I wish this pushed further, but it's a strong attempt.

Novel length also allows for subplots, and they're well-intended (especially the non-humanoid alien) but rarely compliment the larger narrative. The best minor addition is the downtime, the anxious waiting, the technical difficulties which would kill the pacing of an episode but here make the setting feel enjoyably realistic. It helps that I didn't have high expectations and that the sheer novelty is a selling point, because the quality here is just so-so—but the experience is engaging and gratifying; I'm surprised by how much I liked this.


Title: Geisha, A Life
Author: Mineko Iwasaki
Translator: Rande Brown
Published: Atria Books, 2002
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 320
Total Page Count: 248,915
Text Number: 795
Read Because: see Tumblr post linked below, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: The autobiography of Mineko Iwasaki, the most famous geisha in Japan until her sudden retirement at the height of her career. This is written partially in response to Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha (although it never says so directly); as such, it's made accessible to a foreign audience and does much to explain the controversy surrounding Memoirs, particularly the liberties that book takes with Iwasaki's life story, as well as the way it elides geisha and prostitution. This is also a memoir in its own right. Iwasaki relies heavily on anecdotes; her memory is precise, her language evocative, her personality changeable and occasionally smug. She simultaneously loves and criticizes the hierarchical social structure, restrictiveness, skill, artistry, and effort that contribute to a geisha's craft, particularly as interacts with gender and as it has failed to change with the times; her experience and opinions are fervent and complex. This throughline isn't as solid as it could be—in particular, it wants for a stronger conclusion, perhaps an argument about what she believes the future of geisha should look like. But it's a compelling effort, and especially valuable in a world where Memoirs of a Geisha is such a problematic and popular text.

(I wrote a relatively popular, v. shitty review of Memoirs of a Geisha back in the day that will! never! die!, but had still never read this important response to it (despite having provided it as recommended reading), so I finally corrected the issue. I wrote about that trash fire, and some more immediate and emotional reactions to Geisha, A Life, here on my Tumblr, crossposted below.)

( Read more... )


Title: Henry VI Part 3
Author: William Shakespeare
Published: 1595
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 100
Total Page Count: 249,015
Text Number: 796
Read Because: co-read with my mother
Review: The link this makes between personal, selfish, revenge-driven motives and the futility and pain of a civil war creates a solid, well-rounded thematic center which is echoed in the best scenes, including Rutland's murder, the King with the father/son murders, and Richard's fantastic speeches. I wonder if I would have enjoyed this so much if I weren't familiar with & looking forward to Richard III, because he was absolutely my favorite thing about this play, but he's a great character regardless. The momentum, language, and thematic consistency in this play reminds me of the better, later Shakespeare plays with which I'm more familiar; a solidly enjoyable experience.

This is my list of the best media that I consumed for the first time (but was probably not published) in 2016.

Books

I read 128 books in 2016 and, unusually for me, almost all of them were new. It was also, independently, a great reading year. As such, this list is particularly long.

Imperial Radch series by Ann Leckie. This was as good as the hype, but not always for the reasons I was lead to expect; the genre and setting is far-future space opera, but plot and investment are character-driven, and it was the ancillary experience and Lieutenant Tisarwat's violet eyes that really kept me engaged. This series is satisfying on the levels I value most.

Steerswoman series by Rosemary Kirstein. This isn't the first fantasy-which-is-actually-sci-fi genre crossover I've encountered, but it's by far the best. The genre-bending is fundamental to the narrative, but also to the protagonist’s PoV, as she uses and creates the scientific method, applying it to a reality which exceeds her comprehension--and which bleeds over into plot twists which exceed the reader’s expectations. I haven’t been this impressed by a book series in a long time.

Dreamsnake by Vonda N. McIntyre. Something like a sibling to the Steerswoman books, with a similar worldbuilding premise but a smaller focus--it's less about redefining knowledge of the world, and more about fostering knowledge in order to improve life on the local, private scale. It’s soothing and valuable.

Witcher series by Andrzej Sapkowski. In particular, Blood of Elves--but this series entire lives on this list because of Ciri. The Witcher franchise is problematic, from its sexism-as-worldbuilding to its flawed balance of politics to plot. But while I rarely become attached to book characters, I am inordinately attached to Ciri, and to her family and those motivated by her. She's central. The books forget, sometimes, that that’s all I care about (and the games sometimes forget it entirely), but when the pieces align to star her I am in love.

The complete works of Octavia Butler. This isn’t the year that I began reading Butler, but is the year that I read most of and finished her work. I rarely find myself in such active conversation with an author, and as much as I’ve critiqued her for her style and occasional limitations, I’m blown away by what she achieved, and by the fact that her work is so compelling and complicated, so ambitious and successful in precisely the ways that matter.

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison (Sarah Monette). This is the most feel-good that a novel has been while still leaving an impression on me--because it’s not frivolous or simplistic, but rather is about the stubborn effort to do good creating real good in the world: a particularly cathartic, empowering variety of wish-fulfillment

Hild by Nicola Griffith. This is half a story, and a laboriously intimate one at that--a gradual coming of age, dealing with issues of gender and faith and identity, the private and political; it took me a little to warm into it, but having done so I loved it--Hild’s PoV is incredibly immersive.

The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps by Kai Ashante Wilson. What an experience! This is yet another SF/F mashup (it was a good year for those), but this is a particularly tropey one brought alive by the vivid and powerful use of dialect. This is a novella that feels bigger than that, that feels more distinct and dynamic than its page count.

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire. I don't think the plot in this was entirely successful--but I love the premise so unreservedly as to recommend it on that basis alone. This is portal fantasy meta, looking at the afters and in-betweens of those who visit other worlds (and paralleling the reader experience of existing within/without fantasy), conjuring a bittersweet longing unlike anything I've experienced. I've always loved this genre, but didn't have a framework for my feelings about it until reading this book and:

Fairyland series by Catherynne M. Valente. I am of mixed opinions of this work, too. I love the first book beyond reason, but I don't know what the series as a whole lives up to it--the travelogue aspects grow stylistically repetitive, and on a technical level these come to feel rushed. But all the books have something charming to offer, and there's something sincerely valuable about the relationship between September, Halloween, Maud, Mallow, and the Marquess. Their dynamic is subtextual and complicated, and in ongoing conversation about portal fantasy, identity, and self-determination.

Silently and Very Fast by Catherynne M. Valente. My favorite of Valente's novella so far. I'm surprised by how well her mythological and fairy tale imagery builds upon an AI premise, and by how concrete the AI is. There's a lot of depth in this little space, and it's particularly evocative, even for Valente.

Honorable mentions in books

Alphabet of Thorn by Patricia A. McKillip. This isn't the best or most important McKillip, but I love its tropes to pieces (especially the way that the interpersonal dramas resolve) and it’s probably my favorite of the McKillip novels I've read so far.

The Pattern Scars by Caitlin Sweet. I was sincerely impressed by this book, by its intimately-integrated magic system and the unforgiving, unsettling complexity of the interpersonal dynamics.

Multiple novels by CJ Cherryh. I'm continuing to read a lot of Cherryh, and I've yet to be disappointed by any of her work; her combination of deceptively terse writing style, intimate relationship dynamics, and worldbuilding concepts consistently hits on tropes that I adore.

Black Iris by Leah Raeder (Elliot Wake). New Adult isn't a genre I thought I would ever care about, but I care a lot about Wake's contributions to it, and Black Iris is the novel which has spoken to me strongest so far because its angry, intimate depiction of mental illness is cathartic and sincere while meshing well with the heightened passions which are a marker of the genre.



Video Games

Neko Atsume. I came late to this bandwagon, but it was worth the wait; what a charming, pure experience, and somehow even cuter than I expected. There's not really a lot to say about Neko Atsume, but I love it.

Deemo. Far and above the best rhythm game I've ever played, in song quality, aesthetic, narrative, and gameplay--the latter in particular is so natural, genuinely like playing a piano. I love this game to pieces and listen to the soundtrack all the time, yet I've never heard anyone talk about it. Please give it a try.

Overwatch. Is this art, no; but I have been playing 90min/day since launch, so that's something. I appreciate the changes Overwatch has brought to the genre and the active role Blizzard has taken in expanding and balancing it. It wouldn't be my pick for game of the year, but it’s important enough to earn that.

Pokémon Moon. This, frankly, would be my pick for game of the year. It benefits from the engine development of Gen VI, while continuing the narrative trends from Gen V--it looks fantastic, the UI and battle mechanics are great, but most importantly I cried three (three!) times while playing SuMo. The narrative has leveled up, the character development is phenomenal, and I treasure it.

Stardew Valley. This is a love letter to the farming and life simulator games that it draws from, and it almost exceeds them--I admire the depth and refinement of this game, and it's such a satisfying, soothing experience, exactly as it's meant to be.

Dark Souls III. The micro-level of this release, the cinder construct, isn't my series favorite, although I love the characters in this game; but on the macro-level, drawing the cycles of each installment together and to a close, Dark Souls III is incredibly fulfilling. I also appreciate the reintroduction of more varied enemy types and refinements to the combat system.

Honorable mentions in video games

Deus Ex: Mankind Divided. This is as beautiful as I wanted it to be, but not quite as weird as it needed to be--I miss the push-pull of the body horror in Human Revolution. But what a fantastic graphic engine, and the characters and plotting live up to series standard.



Visual Media

Critical Role. This monster of a show has without exaggeration been a life-changer. It's a huge investment of time and such an unassuming medium, but the payoff is intense. The live creative process has an innate energy, and the cast's obvious investment in character and narrative is contagious. It ate me alive this year, and I regret nothing.

Stranger Things. I wanted Stranger Things to be a smidge less neat (plotwise, especially the ending), but in all other ways adore it, from the conversation between genres to the unexpected but indulgent aesthetic to the character acting. I've rarely been so utterly consumed by a show, to the point where coming up for air between episodes made the real world feel surreal.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. I expected to like this, but was surprised by how sincerely I enjoyed it; the character archetypes combining to develop complexity and depth translates well to a miniseries, and despite TV-quality effects this is an aesthetic and speculative delight.

Black Mirror "San Junipero". I can give or take Black Mirror on the whole, but I treasure this particular episode, both because I think it's one of the better realized of the series in terms of plot delivery and because victorious WLW was balm to my soul, especially in the face of so many dead queer women in television.

Penny Dreadful. The series takes a definite downturn by the third season, but the overall experience was worth it, in part of the surprisingly robust gothic retelling, delightful aesthetic, and found family tropes, but mostly because of Vanessa Ives and Eva Green, without which this would be half a show. The intimate depiction of her vulnerability, intelligence, competency, and honesty was particularly valuable to me; this is one of the few supernatural metaphors for mental illness which I've found successful.

Star Trek: The Original Series, and movies 1-5. I grew up with every Star Trek except this one, and had a cultural impression that TOS was corny and misogynistic--and it is, a little, but it holds up much better than I was expecting and has fundamental charm and value, both as franchise starter and in its own right.

Red vs Blue. I never believed I could be so consumed by a machinima comedy series, but the humor works and the eventual scale of Red vs Blue--its convoluted plot, surprisingly well-developed characters, strong pacing, and fantastic animation--is incredible.

Honorable mentions in visual media

Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. I had never watched the original Cosmos; this remake has some redundancy/direction issues in the middle but is on the whole all I wanted, vast and terrifying and beautiful, but also accessible, even personable.

Ravenous. The gayest narrative about cannibals that isn't Hannibal-related, and so delightful--and it only improves on repeat viewing, where the tonal shifts can be anticipated. Great imagery, fun acting, and such explicit cannibalism-as-metaphor violence-as-romance; it's become one of my favorite films.

The Falling. I love quiet little movies about gender, female experience, coming of age, and illness; this was my favorite of those that I watched this year (but see also: The Silenced), perhaps because it's the most convincing: an intimate, vaguely idealized, unsettling portrait of British girls's schools and female adolescence.

I have pumpkin bread in the oven; maybe if we're lucky, Devon will use it to make cream cheese-stuffed pumpkin bread French toast this weekend. So with that good, some bad.

A few days ago Devon and I watched the Star Trek: Voyager episode Extreme Risk, an episode about depression and self-harm which just made me want to punch something. Consider it the antithesis of Doctor Who's Vincent and the Doctor (which I rambled on here), because what Voyager lacks is permanence: sure, they never forget that Neelix has just one lung, but near every episode a cast member goes through something traumatic and every next episode they've forgotten it all—not because there's no continuity, but because it remains episodic. And it should—if all the PTSD did accumulate, it'd be one hell of a depressing show—but it still has a deleterious effect on everything that they try to take seriously. The episode doesn't give B'Elanna a magical breakthrough, except that it does: in a week, it's as if it never happened. No lasting effects, all problems healed, no one dies at the end. Issues-of-the-week are well-intended and even the maudlin ones can be successful, but this one was not only Othering, it was heartbreaking: ah, of only I could forget in a week.

And then yesterday, Hyperbole and a Half posted Adventures in Depression, which was like a kick in the gut. As I explained it to Devon, there are something like four groups of people: Group 0 is never experiences major depression. Group 1 experiences depression with some sort of external cause, and gets over it when that cause resolves or passes. Group 2 experiences depression with no external cause, and gets over it when the episode passes or through treatment. Group 3 experiences depression with no external cause, and continue to experience depression in some form or another indefinitely. These definitions aren't absolute; in reality groups overlap or aren't groups at all. Depression also isn't a competition: having a cause doesn't make a depressive episode any better or worse, and overcoming it doesn't make your experience more or less meaningful. Group 3 doesn't "win."

But as better as I am these days—and I am—I have weeks like those in the last two which remind me that my version of "better" can often be everyone else's version of "not very good at all," and that isn't going to change. I'm in Group 3. I'm not doing all that I could to help myself, I'm not in therapy or on medication, but my non-life is basically as good as it's going to get. Despite that, I will always be sick. I will always backslide.

Allie hasn't had a Lifetime Movie breakthrough because those moments don't exist. Breakthroughs, such as they are, are arbitrary and small, and far from magical; even if they occur, they are hardly the end of the journey. Her experiences aren't lesser than mine. I don't win the misery Olympics. But it still stings like a bitch to know that I haven't had my bike ride of pseudo-victory, and I probably never will. It stings even more after such an accurate depiction of depression, because yes, it is like that; and while it's no longer that bad for me every single day, I know that any day in the future could be that bad and there's shit all that I can do about it.

I think there's nothing to jinx when I say am doing better, now. I wiped myself out just making dinner yesterday, so "better" still may not be saying much, but some of my energy and a fair bit of my joy are back, and I'm looking forward to celebrating Halloween and seeing Devon this weekend. The pumpkin bread smells fantastic. But I was feeling like utter shite for a fair few days back there, and this for me is indicative of so much. I'm the issue of the week. I'm the problem without a solution, the breakthrough that never does plan to come, the unforgotten traumatic event. That sounds pathetic, and self-centered, and it is. But it's also true, and the reminders of that which keep on popping up simply hurt.