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.
Everyone’s doing wrap-up posts and they’re something I’ve done in the past. I’m not a big New Year’s resolutions kinda gal though often set myself some goals – which naturally I fail to meet. Year after year.
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.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock, or you know… in Westeros or Essos, you’ll know that colouring-in books for adults are now a thing.
Most people choose to colour zen-like mandalas which are perhaps designed to send you into some blissful trance—thus reducing your need for wine. Or LSD.
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.
At some point in the 1990s it felt like we were flooded with TV shows based on novels on my bookshelves. From Ruth Rendell’s Inspector Wexford to Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse—we were offered an array of quality police procedurals. And of course… leading the pack was Prime Suspect, based on the book by Lynda La Plante.
I understand La Plante herself was involved in writing the teleplays for series one and three, but the fact the series stretched to seven seasons was really a testament to the awesomeness of Helen Mirren in the lead role.