Forbidden is a full-length (ninety minutes!) musical on YouTube. I will link to it in a moment, right after I warn for language and sexual innuendos in one song. Language warning, and one song contains sexual innuendos! Okay, here it is.

So the set-up here is that we're in an alternate history 1980s America, named Nacirema, where black and gay culture became dominant, rather than white and straight culture. Just as in real life, the Bible is used to justify the dominant culture's oppression: there are three commandments in this version, the first of which I couldn't actually understand because they were delivered through song lyrics. Eh, we're on the internet, I guess I'll just listen again . . .

Ah, okay. The first commandment is the one that gets broken by society constantly in both worlds: Love your neighbor. It's the one that shows the people in the musical's society to be hypocrites, because of how straight and white people are treated. Interesting that this was composed as the first commandment in the song, almost as though the singer/narrators are "getting it over with" so they can move on to the two commandments that are clearly more rigidly followed.

The second commandment I'll quote verbatim: "Turn your back on things you don't understand." This is essentially a direct contradiction of the first, as you can't love your neighbors if you turn your back on them; it implies that the community's love is only valid for those who follow the majority baseline. It's also a reflection of our world's tendency to give more attention to problems affecting the majority, and overlook the suffering of minorities.

And the third is basically the one that says that only same-sex partnerships are acceptable. (The wording in the song is a little clunky to fit the meter, but that's what it's saying.) I naturally would have loved to know more of the history of this setting, how their system of continuing the species works mechanically, though I understand the focus of the album is on injustice rather than world-building. I got the gist of it: that children are born to some women (must be through artificial insemination, since "breeder" is a slur applied to straight people), then taken away and given to married gay couples to raise. But I only saw couples with one child each throughout the whole video, which implies the population would drop by half with every generation, which isn't sustainable. Maybe I just wasn't meant to think about it that closely, or maybe it's a literal degeneration meant to be a metaphor for the other failings of this society tearing itself down.

But that's not to say there isn't any world-building. It's dropped through many minor details throughout the video, and they're all clever and fantastic. Nacirema's flag is the U.S. flag with the red and blue colors reversed, and we get to hear what's essentially an alternate universe version of the real U.S. national anthem. The protesters at the end bare signs that say "God hates straights" and "Split and quit." A white singer who performs a beautiful melodic song with undertones of equality barely gets any applause or other reaction from the all-black audience before her, but the following performance of black singers doing a very bland and simplistic pop song that only talks about general life gets the audience dancing and clapping along. The main character, Noooolan? I think I forgot his name, but he becomes the only black person in a prison filled with white inmates. All these little moments feel normal and natural; I only recognize them as off by comparison to my own experiences in our world.

Particularly chilling are the moments where a upbeat, peppy song is undercut with a moment of grim prejudice.
One of these is when the song-and-dance routine in a diner is cut off completely when a white server spills coffee on a black woman's lap. The entire diner, black and white, freezes to watch what happens—all knowing the power the black woman can potentially bring to bear over the white woman. When the black woman sees that no one else is going to support her, she contents herself with storming out after calling the server an N-word variant. (I don't care it's not the N-word; I'm still not typing it out.) Another was the scene where a black police officer guns down a white man who was innocently walking through an all-black neighborhood, all to a backdrop of jaunty harp and brass music, then proceeds to have a happy song-and-dance number with the black home-owners while the white man's body lays on the sidewalk at the side of the frame. Towards the end of that song, the camera cuts to a close-up of a broom sweeping dirt under a rug. These are great metaphors for the fact that while this society appears happy and friendly on the surface, there's some seriously dark happenings going on underneath that everyone would rather ignore than confront. (By the way, that scene of police brutality takes place, appropriately, on Novyart street.)

I also love the contrast between the costumes of the accepted gay community and the refuge for straight people. The gay people dress in either bright colors or pastels, and in impeccably smooth 50s/60s dresses and suits. The straight refugees dress in more modern clothing, with a lot of loose cloth, torn knees and elbows and uneven styles, and all in scales of grey. Not only is grey the color born of mixing black with white, but it's also a drab color that blends in to the background. It shows that when the straight protagonists were still trying to pass as gay, they had to put on a front that was meant to stand out and be seen by the rest of their community to match everyone, rather than be their base selves. It's also representative of how minorities sometimes have to hide themselves from the view of society, blending in unseen to avoid being attacked.

There are a couple of songs about money that didn't really feel like they belonged. I mean, they fit with the story line's progression, but not with the overall themes. Or maybe I missed part of their point by not hearing all the lyrics? Either way, it's still a strong musical, even though I could have done without those two. There's also a bit of a weird plothole in that Nolan-if-that-is-his-name and Elle-I-did-remember-her-name-for-some-reason are both accused of heterosexual activity, Nolan is jailed and eventually hanged, but Elle is allowed to return to her wife and live on like nothing happened. I mean, this isn't a big complaint, because I certainly didn't want her to be killed, it's just . . . it kind of leaves some questions, you know? The wife must have had some reaction to everything going on, but we don't get to hear it. It does feel a little missing something there. But overall, it's a very creative and thoughtful musical that I heartily recommend.

—doctorlit has been a fan of Todrick Hall for a while now

♪I've got a big black thick spoiler and I'm not afraid to use it♪ ♪I've got a big black thick spoiler and I'm not afraid to use it♪ ♪I've got a big black thick spoiler and I'm not afraid to use it♪

(For the record, the word I replaced there is "card," as in "credit card," not whatever you were just thinking it was.)

I think the first season of Daredevil was the last TV series I watched before I started reviewing everything on the Board, so I'll go over that here in addition to season two. Spoilers for both seasons follow. There's also some very vague, non-detailed allusion to some of the gore in the show.

season one
So, not having watched any Netflix originals before DD 1, I really didn't know what I was getting into before this, and I did not like what I saw initially. I actually stopped watching for a long while—nearly a year, I think?—after the infamous car door scene. The violence in this series was just so over-the-top and unnecessary, and it was making me a little sick. I eventually got over it and finished for the sake of MCU completion, but I have little interest in ever watching again.

I first encountered Wilson Fisk in his animated adaption from the Spider-Man cartoon of the 1990s. That version of Fisk, or Kingpin, was rather soft-spoken. He was a threatening character, both physically and politically, but his was a quiet, confident menace, and that version of the character has stuck in my head as the baseline Fisk. The Fisk in this show is such a departure from that, I really can't find myself liking him at all. This Fisk is completely out of control of his emotions, easily insulted, and has a desperation to his success drive that make him rather a weak villain to me.

One thing season one did really well, though, was keeping the courtroom cases ongoing throughout the season, and making sure they had relevance and interest to the vigilantism side of Matt Murdock's life. Season two didn't do that so well, I think. That season mostly had Matt's law firm completely tied up in the Frank Castle case, and of course Nelson and Murdock disbanded towards the end, so we didn't really get much of the lawyer side of Matt's life.

season two
I was very pleased that, with the focus switching from fist fights to guns and swords, the violence actually got toned down for this season. Somehow. Still a lot of fake blood, but bullet holes are cleaner than, uh. Eye self-impalement on nails. So.

In a vacuum, Castle is a character I should despise, by all rights. He fights with guns, and has every mark of a teen boy's edgy OC. But man, the performance that actor put out. Any scene where Castle is monologuing, I can just listen to forever. Even with that rasp in his voice, his words and his facial expressions can be so heart-wrenching when he's talking about his family. That's not to say I agree with his philosophy; I'm much more in Daredevil's camp. I do think some MCU villains did indeed need to be put down because of the threat they posed to the world, but not the street toughs and ninjas in Daredevil.

The whole ninja plotline, I'm kind of lukewarm on. They do make for an excellent physical challenge for Daredevil, since their silent movement makes them nearly undetectable to his senses until they're hitting him. But their whole weird plot, with the resurrection, and the brainwashed human chemical mixers, and whatever crazy demon thing I thought was going to be in the giant stone coffin thing . . . I just didn't find all that as compellingly real as the other plot of the season, discovering the truth behind Castle losing his family. I was much more curious about the identity of the Blacksmith than I was about the coffin, even though that plot got the finale climax. (Although I love the fact that after Castle resolves his side of things, that he shows up to help with Daredevil's. Like, "Okay, the more important plot is done now, I can go help with the B plot next.")

A very rare thing happened while I watched this: I actually guessed a twist long before it was revealed, namely that Elektra is a Black Sky. I'm usually terrible about guessing those sorts of details ahead of time, since I tend to just let a story unfold itself before me without trying to deconstruct it much. I very much enjoy those twist moments, too, so I'm not necessarily pleased with myself; ruined the reveal moment for myself. But there was just something about the way Stick would talk about Elektra that seemed to hint there was something actually wrong with her, and she seemed almost compelled to kill, rather than the matter-of-fact, business-like way Castle would gun criminals down. Mix in my curiosity about the moment in season one when Nobu revealed that other people could be Black Sky beyond the one that got killed, and it all seemed to line up.

Ultimately, season two felt a little too stretched between its two plots, and the writers clearly wanted the mystical ninja plot to be the focal one, even though the government cover-up aspect was far more intriguing. I'm sure the whole Hand plotline will continue on in the Defenders series, but I hope it gets more interesting from here.

—doctorlit kept spelling "Daredevil" as "Dardevil" and he's really frustrated with himself right now

"I'd say Frank Castle is a man who would gladly give his life to keep spoilers safe." "I'd say Frank Castle is a man who would gladly give his life to keep spoilers safe." "I'd say Frank Castle is a man who would gladly give his life to keep spoilers safe."

Have I mentioned that I willingly read children's literature sometimes? Not young adult fiction, but like, overt children's books. Because I do that. Because I am a glutton. Because I have no shame.

That said, it's been quite a while since I had one, and oh boy, did I step back into that genre with a doozy this time. I had almost forgotten how no-holds-barred crazy classic kid lit could be. Like, The Witches probably wouldn't get published today. Spoilers follow for The Witches and for a little bit of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Hard to know where to start, really. I guess I'll start with the general tone of the story: I like that children's authors from Roald Dahl's era weren't afraid to scare kids. Death and injury (loss of body parts even!), and the permanent and inescapable fates of some of the children described, and the absolutely horrifying description and illustration of the Grand High Witch's face are stuff for much older audiences, by most people's standards. It makes it exciting for us older readers dipping in, to be sure. But I like the implied respect for children behind this kind of writing. The modern outlook seems to be that material kids consume has to be censored until they get older, so that they don't see something they don't understand that harms them in some way. But the fact is, (I'm getting very subjective here) an adult who didn't grow up processing tough things isn't suddenly prepared to process them the moment they turn legal age. Our understanding of tough topics comes from meeting them head-on and digesting them as we grow. (Wildly tangential but related note: the parents who turn a blind eye to kids chasing and scaring ducks at the zoo because "they're just kids, it's what they do" don't understand that those kids will grow up into adults who chase and scare ducks for fun; they need to be taught as they grow that scaring small creatures for amusement is wrong, or they'll never learn it. And yes, I have seen grown people going after birds at work.) I also strongly believe that children who encounter stories of intrepid-child-hero-against-super-powered-monster in their youth will find it much easier to cope with more mundane forms of antagonism, like bullies, as they grow older.

The general aesthetic and culture and outlook of the witches is simultaneously simplistic and juvenile, as befits antagonists in a story aimed at children, but also legitimately disturbing and creepy, just because of how disconnected it is from cultural norms. Witches who hate children and target them with curses, that's a pretty standard concept. But the motivation behind it—the fact that kids smell like dog feces to witches, and the presence of children ruining the view out the window—these are such simplistic sources of ire that it circles all the way around and becomes grotesque. It's also rather amusing that the witches' complaints about children are themselves incredibly childish reasoning. It adds to the presentation of their demonic nature: they appear adult humans, but their motivations are so different from those of adult humans that they feel more like the child humans they loathe so much. It's also interesting that the Grand High Witch, the designated leader and most respected and feared, is also said to be about four feet tall—by far the shortest witch, and with a mask that also makes her the youngest-looking witch. Their leader is also the most childlike among them!

One thing that did bother me was how the story treated Bruno Jenkins. He’s a fat boy who is basically given no personality beyond “likes to eat things,” other than one scene where he burns ants with a magnifying glass for amusement. (Tangent: I apparently read this book once when I was very young, because I remember the ant scene, but had no context to place that memory in for years. Funny how, in a book about demonic witches killing children, the one thing that bothered me enough to stick in my memory all these decades was the ant murder. Especially ironic considering all the ants I have to kill every summer when the get inside exhibits. I’ve still got ant bite marks on my ankles from this past Tuesday.) Even after being turned into a mouse, Bruno’s only motivation is in stuffing his face, and makes his new mouse body also overweight in a matter of hours. He doesn’t even participate in defeating the English witches in the final act, something a modern story would certainly have involved such a sidekick character in. Between Bruno and Augustus Gloop from Chocolate Factory, I really am starting to feel like Dahl had some weird prejudice against fat people. In fairness, I suppose in his time, overeating was viewed as more of a vice than a behavioral problem, and he doesn’t make it at least subtly clear that both characters’ parents are more to blame, but it still feels kind of weird to reduce a fat character to only their eating habits.

Come to think of it, Grandmamma (she wasn’t given a name, I don’t think) is pretty fat herself. Maybe Dahl was only bothered by very young people who became overweight? Either way, the way the narrative treats Bruno feels like it contradicts one of the main messages of the story, which is not judging people by their appearance. The witches all dress like pretty women in public, but are barely human-looking demons underneath. Tttttthhhhheeee uh wait, does the boy not have a name, either? I think this is the first time I’ve gotten through an entire novel and not noticed that the two main protagonists didn’t have names. Well, the boy gets turned into a mouse, but instead of being rendered weak and helpless, he uses his new body’s attributes to sabotage the witches’ plans and save all the other children in England. And as a side note to that point, the witches assume the transformed mice children will be capturable with cheese in mouse traps, not realizing that they retain their human intelligence and memories after the transformation. Finally, the grandmother, old and fat and walking with a cane, is an expert on witch behavior, and while we never get a clear picture of her background, I want to imagine she was a full on Buffy-style monster hunter in her youth. Maybe it’s the fact that Bruno is rich that’s supposed to fit that theme: his family is clearly loaded, and all spoiled rotten and easily offended to boot. Actually, they very much feel like the Dursleys minus Harry Potter, to the point where I could confidently label them AU alternates of each other.

So yeah. The Witches is a legitimately creepy action story, even for my thirty-two-year-old brain. Roald Dahl new how to write, just wish he wasn’t so judgmental of people for eating food.

—doctorlit remembers seeing the movie adaptation on tv long ago, but can’t remember it well enough to bring it up now

“Why did we not smell it before? It stinks like a sewer! Some little spoiler must be hiding not so very far away from here!” “Why did we not smell it before? It stinks like a sewer! Some little spoiler must be hiding not so very far away from here!” “Why did we not smell it before? It stinks like a sewer! Some little spoiler must be hiding not so very far away from here!”

This was the first of the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies that my mom went to see with us! She really enjoyed it, too. I don't know if she would be into the more serious movies as much, but the humorous tone of the Ant-Man titles, coupled with this film doing a really good job of using natural dialogue to summarize the events of both Ant-Man and Captain America: Civil War, so Mom wasn't really lost about character relationships. Spoilers follow for all three aforementioned movies, as well as Avengers: Infinity Wars and a bit of Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. season three.

I actually didn't like the original Ant-Man very much. I found the humor was very juvenile compared to other MCU films (though not as bad as the Guardians of the Galaxy titles), and dominated the action and plot far too much for my liking. This film did a much better job, not only with the quality of the humor, but in letting the more dramatic scenes play out uninterrupted too much. Michael Douglas as Hank Pym especially improved as a result. I felt like he wasn't entirely into it in the first film, as the delivery on a lot of his humorous lines sounded pretty disinterested. For the sequel, he had a lot more opportunity to act in more dramatic and emotional scenes, and it really made Hank Pym feel a lot more real to me. I especially liked the scene where Janet was speaking through Scott. It got a lot of laughs in the theater, but the sincere acting job done by all three actors made very touching for me.

A-MatW is probably up there in my [arbitrary number] favorite Marvel movies. It's just so well-written. There are so many plot threads: Scott's relationship with his family; his conflict with the FBI; Hank and Hope's incomplete trust in him while needing to rely on him anyway; their desire to rescue Janet; the mobster dude being after their technology; Scott's coworkers trying to keep their company afloat; and Ghost and Professor . . . Teacher Guy trying to heal Ghost. And everything slips along so neatly, it's such a smooth plot! I especially like that this isn't another case of the villain getting killed off after a single appearance, but that they actually give Ghost the resolution she deserves, and maybe even set her up to be a continuing character, maybe? Maybe we'll see her in Avengers 4? I also like that the stepdad's character didn't backslide back to the first movie, and continue to treat Scott as a danger and a rival. It would have been such a cliche to go that direction, so I'm really glad he seems wholly supportive of Scott now, even considering his involvement in the events of Civil War.

As with the first movie, all the tricks with the growing and shrinking objects were really clever, and made for really creative fight scenes. The car chase sequence at the end was especially fun, with Hope, Scott and Ghost all using their abilities to great effect to stay involved in it, even when they were on foot.

Going in, I was expecting the plot to pick up from the briefcase of Cross particles that was stolen by HYDRA in the first A-M, but they wound up not being involved. Thinking it over after the movie, I realized that because HYDRA was permanently shut down at the end of season three of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., all of HYDRA's assets are under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s control again.

The light-hearted tone and fast-paced action of this movie were a great departure from Infinity Wars. Up until those two ending scenes. Ugh. Again. Dropped me right back into that feeling of dread I had throughout the ending of A:IW. The second Hope's countdown stopped coming over the radio, I knew we had lost someone. I sure didn't think it was going to be ALL THREE of Scott's main team. It's especially nasty to realize that Janet finally got reunited with her family after thirty years, only for all three to be killed off by Thanos after a small number of weeks, if not days. Did not want. The ant playing the drum set later while the TV broadcasts are all failing wasn't very funny to me, either. We'd better get all three back eventually, or I'm going to be really upset.

—doctorlit is very happy that Kate from Lost finally got a major movie role that isn't a canon-breaking elf, so bring her back, darn it!

"Tell me you destroyed the spoiler."
"Yes."
"How could you destroy my spoiler?"

"Tell me you destroyed the spoiler."
"Yes."
"How could you destroy my spoiler?"

First, to answer Tomash’s question: I just finished The Valley of Horses, which I’ll go into below. I’m nearing the end of the second season of Daredevil, and might be finishing that tomorrow, depending on how the timing goes. And in a few hours, I’m heading to pick up my brother se we can go see Ant-Man and the Wasp. Then the two of us are going to bring Mom to see Solo, which she hasn’t seen yet.

The Valley of Horses is the second novel of the six-part Earth’s Children series. Cassie5squared actually wrote a PPC mission to this series, although I haven’t read it yet, because I can’t tell which novel it’s set during. Anyway, the series takes place during the Ice Age period in real world history, when both our subspecies of human and the Neanderthal subspecies were surviving together in what would later be named Europe.

Spoilers for books one and two of this series follow. Also, warning for some discussion of sexual behavior later on.

I read the first Earth’s Children novel, Clan of the Cave Bear, before I started this “review all the things” policy I do, so I’ll touch on it, too. For me, the world-building is absolutely the most top-notch aspect of this story (insofar as “world-building” can be applied to to a setting based on research into real world history, and can essentially be said to take place in reality). I really liked how Auel presented the culture and lifestyle of the Neanderthal—or Clan, as they call themselves. The idea that they had evolved a collective memory, and could literally call on the experiences of their ancestors to guide them, is of course fantastical and impossible to prove or disprove, but it’s an interesting way to contrast them with Ayla in this novel, and others of her people in the second, who are characterized more by imagination and ingenuity. It also serves as an explanation for why our subspecies flourished (albeit with some Neanderthal DNA that we carry in our species to this day) while the Clan eventually perished: they became so reliant on their built-in memories to function, that they were unable to forge new strategies for survival as the world continued to change over the centuries. I also like the detail that while Ayla’s people communicate in languages like we do, the Clan communicate mostly through a combination of body posture, facial expression, sign language and a few grunted words, accounting for their different mouth shape.

Auel’s narration style does something that’s normally “bad”: adding information that the characters the narration follows don’t and can’t know. Sometimes comparing the animals in the story to their modern-day counterparts, sometimes explaining aspects of evolutionary theory that are far beyond the understanding of either human culture present at the time. But in this case, I feel these “in-text author’s notes” are a true benefit to the story, as they help us modern readers put a greater context on the events and setting.

I’ll discuss Ayla here as well, since she’s in both novels. As our wiki page for the series says, she has a lot of traits that our community especially would associate with Mary Sues. While I can see that reading, I find it fairly easy to overlook. The only aspect that gets kind of awkward to me is the fact that she’s blonde and blue-eyed, which calls up uncomfortable thoughts of designated Aryan protagonists among a more “primitive” culture, although I’m confident that wasn’t the author’s intent. Other than that, all of Ayla’s victories feel to me more like she is a stand-in for our early ancestors’ successes and developments, rather than being a specific, mythic individual. Ayla is sort of an avatar for our species, at least in my reading. Additionally, any special treatment or other success she receives are always hard-won and emotionally taxing to her, especially during her time in the clan. So I’m solidly in the not-a-Sue camp for Ayla.

Moving on to The Valley of Horses, we get more of that same excellent cultural world-building for the Earth’s Children, Ayla’s subspecies. We also get a better idea of the geography of this land, more visually recognizable as Europe now.

This is where Ayla meets up with her own people finally, which becomes obvious as the novel begins flipping between Ayla scenes, and scenes with Jondalar and Thonolan traveling, early on. This made it obvious they were going to meet up eventually, but I was pleasantly surprised at how long the narrative arcs were kept separate. The meeting wasn’t rushed to meet another check on the overall plot. Not only does this give us time to explore the culture of the Earth’s Children caves, but it also shows Ayla’s resourcefulness as she survives alone for three years in a valley. It made the final meeting more exciting. Even after Ayla and Jondalar meet, the language and cultural barriers between them isn’t rushed through, either. It’s a very thoughtfully done premise.

I am annoyed that the Earth’s Children culture is presented as being so focused on sex, especially since they have no idea that there’s any connection between intercourse and reproduction. I’m far more interested in the depictions of tool use and hunting and medicine in these early cultures, and the first novel was a lot more enjoyable than the second thanks to the lack of sex scenes. But I guess that’s a situation I just have to deal with as an asexual person consuming media.

—doctorlit, off to the movies next

“Only once did he initiate the spoiler prematurely and scatter a herd in advance of the pit.” “Only once did he initiate the spoiler prematurely and scatter a herd in advance of the pit.”
“Only once did he initiate the spoiler prematurely and scatter a herd in advance of the pit.”

Caves of Qud is bloody great and it has great lore. It's probably what got me into New Weird, to be honest.
Hell, one of the lore books was written by a sentient plant called Baccata Yewtarch. For his sources, he cites sentient fungus that have travelled across the world, attached to travelling camel-guy merchants. The weirdest part is really the fact that Baccata overlooked the seeming speciesism between plants and fungi enough to source them in his books. Good on him!
It's so cool.

I recently finished rereading another kinda surreal weirdo story - The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, Lovecraft's outright longest story. It's the fantasy novella that sorta defined my own tastes in speculative fiction and worldbuilding - there's a dreamy surrealism to the whole thing, that feels almost fairy tale-like, that I'm absolutely in love with. Hell, the start of the story just offhandedly describes that a specific tree in a forest was grown from a seed that fell from the moon, and later on in the story, it's revealed that you can just kinda - just sail right up to the moon!
Here's what it has for 'races':

- Humans (of course)

- Zoogs (vaguely human-eating sapient rodents who live in a glowing fungus forest and make wine out of that moon tree.)

- Cats (sapient and basically the 'hero' race, who are all kinda honourable and good and who help the main character out.)

- Ghouls (loathsome corpse-eaters who dwell above a massive pit of bones of every thing they've eaten, who have access to every graveyard of the waking world, and are actually pretty reasonable guys, who outright help the main character out and beat up monsters with giant tombstones.)

- Moonbeasts (frog-looking amorphous silvery things, who are implied to buy and eat slaves and who sail about from the moon and the Dreamlands. They're the Orcs but squishier, I suppose.)

And probably heaps more, because the Dream Cycle is wild.
It's an awesome bloody setting, and that story is an awesome bloody story that has an insane ending, and one that's surprisingly tender and personal, considering how weird and cosmic the story is. It's real good. Probably my favourite Lovecraft story, to be honest.

The only real shame I have with it is, well, it's hard to get as connected to it as I want to, knowing how horrid of a person Lovecraft was, y'know? There are themes in that story that resound a whole lot with me but also, er, he was racist.

Freefall. Thanks for recommending this, I love it.

Darths and Droids. I would probably enjoy this even more if I remembered more of Star Wars, and since I never watched Rogue One, I’m now totally out of my water. Thanks to Thoth for that.

1/0. That’s a weird one, but I’m still determined to finish it. Thanks to Thoth again.

Oh, and an actual book – I’m halfway through a collection of SF stories by John W. Campbell. Ah, the classics. (Thanks to Mrs Graubarts cousin, although he won’t see this here.)

HG

It being vacation, I've been reading a whole lot of things. A standout was The Goblin Emperor, by Katherine Addison. It too is more focused on world-building and characters than plot, but it's charming and lovely and has loads of fantasy politics (yay fantasy politics!). The Divine Cities trilogy by Robert Jackson Bennet was also some really sweet unique fantasy (i.e. The gods are dead, what happens after?); each book in the trilogy felt different in a very good way, but the themes all coalesce so well at the end of the last book. The Six of Crows duology and The Illuminae Files are probably way too YA for the tastes of most here, but I freaking loved them, so I recommend them anyway. Uprooted by Naomi Novik was another standout, and it hits that sweet spot between YA and adult fantasy, so that gets a blanket recommendation. Everyone should read it! There are evil trees!

In terms of comics, I've been working through Marvel's new Star Wars runs, and I've been enjoying (most of) them a lot! They fill in quite a few plotholes in very natural ways. I've also been reading Descender by Jeff Lemire, and for some reason it reminds me of the webcomic Space Boy (just with... yanno, a spot of torture here and a bucketload of existential angst there, as opposed to warm fluffiness). I really wanted to like Joyride by Colin Lanzing, because there are not enough colorful space opera comics in the world (Empress by Mark Millar is one that I recommend highly), but the author just didn't have a handle on character development and the main character was a jerk anyway.

Current soundtrack to my life is Pray for the Wicked by Panic! At The Disco.