If I weren’t so lazy I’d check to see if the powers that be have added Netflix to our dictionaries as a verb. Cos it’s a popular thing to do nowadays. Or at least as popular as running and dieting. Particularly at this time of year.
Regular readers will be aware that after almost 4yrs of paying exorbitant amounts for a meagre and unwatchable (analogue) pay TV service, once I moved into my new place I got Netflix, well… after procrastinating for a month or two as I am wont to do!
I LOVE television. I’ve always loved television, and there are many MANY shows I watch religiously. However… I’ve failed to join the masses around the world who have become fans of Orange is the New Black. I watched season 1, but wasn’t interested enough to go back for more.
I’m conscious that season 4 has just finished amid the usual online hubub so it seems it’s as popular as ever. And I’m assuming it’s that popularity which has led to the publication of this memoir… taking us back to where it all started.
I was having a conversation with another book blogger about a novel on the weekend and mentioned I’d guessed the plot twist – and the whodunnit – as a result. She hadn’t she said and I pondered on this a little.
I’d like to think I have some kind of superpower or the criminal profiling genius that FBI behavioural specialists would envy, but sadly I think it comes down to the fact… I read (and watch) a lot of crime fiction and television.
Oscar nominations for 2016 have been announced and there’s an uproar led by Jada Pinkett Smith about the lack of diversity amongst the nominees. I misunderstood initially and thought she meant that the voters were racist: suggesting African American actors and directors had been purposely overlooked and wondered who she thought was undeserving of the existing nominees.
Today however I read a media report which cited the delectable Idris Elba (who – incidentally I think would be a most excellent James Bond) on the issue as he spoke about the lack of diversity on UK screens. Another report reflected on our own industry here in Australia and it (and those commenting) noted that we really only see diversity on SBS, and occasionally on ABC TV.
Because I keep my ear to the ground (in that I pfaff about on social media) I’d heard about Jessica Jones, a new Netflix show which was getting rave reviews in the US, before it was officially released.
Jessica Jones – the person – is a Marvel comic character. Apparently. I don’t read comics or graphic novels and have mostly stayed away from the superhero franchises, so I knew nothing about Jessica Jones before I started watching it.
The culprit is yet to be identified… but I swear someone in one of my social media networks suggested I watch a TV show called Lost Girl. And if I ever find out who’s responsible I’m gonna kill them. Well… at least rant a little.
Though I don’t read fantasy / science fiction / dystopian fiction I enjoy watching it and some of my favourite shows fall firmly into that genre.
However, I’m now reminded that—like my reading fodder—my enjoyment boils down to a number of factors. And #spoileralert… Lost Girl fails on several fronts.
The anniversary of my redundancy came and went this week without me realising. It’s probably a good thing as I would have felt compelled to do some sort of ‘then and now’ post. Don’t get me wrong. Leaving the life I was leading before was the best thing I’ve ever done, but I still have some regrets—things I wish I’d done differently. But given there’s no chance of me returning to 2012, here we are… ready to talk books and reading. Again.
