vital functions

[kaberett]

Reading. Digger, Ursula Vernon. We are now about halfway through chapter 5.

Continuing with October Daye! More continuity argh*, and yet I am now about two-thirds of the way through have just finished The Winter Long and therefore approaching the point at which there are new novels. (I have previously read up to Once Broken Faith -- lots of the short stories are new to me, because I've been supporting the Patreon Since The Beginning but for reasons of executive function haven't managed to read them, but getting to New Novels is itself exciting!)

• e.g.: did Quentin go into fosterage when Penthea was 10 (FoB) or 7 (TWL)? does Toby know his sister exists (FoB, set before TWL) or not (TWL)? Did Simon Torquill wind up bound by the Winterrose after August disappeared (TWL) or to protect Patrick Lorden (And Thrice Again)? And yes, sure, we have a whole pile of unreliable narrator, but we also have a bunch of other unambiguous internal contradictions (see previous grumbles) and as such I can't convince myself that any of these are deliberate enough to read anything into. This would, obviously, bother me less if I were less invested!

Watching. Good Omens S02E02. I continue suspicious.

Listening. Dreaming, Marshmello/P!NK/Sting, as discussed.

Cooking. Did another round of the smitten kitchen everyday charred corn succotash, this time using frozen green beans and adding the chilli and garlic directly to the dressing rather than cooking them with the onion, and it was so good. SO good.

Eating. I continue very grateful for having been encouraged to try out the pizza place at the station just around the corner from the allotment. We Resorted To Them night before last, when my head just said No, and it was an Excellent Treat.

I have also been consuming approximately my own bodyweight in egg custard tarts, individual raspberry trifles, and passion fruit & raspberry cheesecake.

Growing. HARVESTED THE CARPET. Transplanted some summer squash; the courgette promptly died but the pattypan wasn't obviously dead last I checked. Aubergines looking very happy; ditto chillis, some of which I am going to bring home to overwinter. I'm playing chicken with the winter squash (I think I'm intending to leave them on the vines until the next time we're forecast to get below 9°C overnight).

Need or at least want to decide which bed is going to be garlic this year coming and stick it into the ground.

Observing. Absolutely fantastic colour gradient during sunset tonight.

Comments

[shanaqui]

Re: Good Omens, I enjoyed a lot about season one, but it felt like the cracks really showed for me with season two. I like David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Crowley and Aziraphale, and their relationship grabs me (while not being the book versions; as far as I'm concerned these are two different canons) -- but most of the rest of it doesn't?

David Tennant does Crowley's brooding so beautifully, though.

more Toby grousing

[kaberett]

DOES SHIFTING THE BALANCE OF BLOOD BURN ELF-SHOT OUT (whichever one it is Toby gets shot in) OR NOT (TWL)? And WHY did Toby not even try drinking the Luideag's blood to find out what on earth was going on? "Too much blood magic, won't be able to pull herself back out" explicitly lampshaded is one thing; it just... not even occurring is Another.

[syderia]

Regarding Simon, my understanding is that he got bound to protect Patrick, but he stopped having moral qualms after August disappeared.

[kaberett]

What we get in The Winter Long (ch19) is:

“Okay. So . . . you knew that Evening was Firstborn, or at least you suspected it. And this was after you and Mom were married. What changed? How did Evening get her claws into you?”

There was a long pause. Then, in a voice that sounded like it was breaking into a million pieces right in front of me, Simon whispered, “There she is.”

I looked to the trees. The girl with the gold-red hair was stepping into view, wearing a dress the color of corn husks, a candle in her hand. I recognized its mottled calico pattern. She’d gotten it from the Luidaeg. She lingered for a moment, looking around herself like she was waiting for a sign. Then she continued forward, disappearing into the tree line.

“When August was . . . lost . . . we both dealt with our grief in our own ways,” said Simon haltingly. His words sounded strange at first, until I realized there were traces of an almost British accent seeping into them, like some long-buried wound was being torn open. He was focusing so hard on what he was saying that he didn’t have the energy to focus on how it was being said. “Your mother was . . . it’s hard to be of the First, and she had it harder than her siblings, because she was born so soon before Oberon and his wives left us. Her father was not here to teach her how to manage her strengths, or how to compensate for her weaknesses. She was unprepared for the reality of a situation she couldn’t change.”

“Parental abandonment seems to run in the family.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. To be fair, I didn’t try that hard.

Simon took a sharp breath. I waited for him to say I was being unfair, but he didn’t; he just let it out again, and said, “Be that as it may, she couldn’t handle the shock of losing our daughter. She began rattling at doors, making bargains, trying anything and everything she could think of in her mad quest to bring our little girl home. And I . . .” His voice trailed off, turning weak and broken.

The forest in front of us blurred, replaced by a room I knew all too well: the receiving room at Goldengreen, back when it had belonged to Evening. Back when it had been cold.

“I thought it was wrong to leave my wife—-my love, my Amy-—to sell her soul while I kept mine. So I went to the devil I knew, and I asked if she could help me.” His voice dropped even lower. “I was a fool.”

I hated to prod at what was clearly still an open wound, but I had to know. “Your daughter disappeared, and you went to Evening for help.”

“Yes,” said Simon. The word was soft, and somehow broken. His voice gained strength as he repeated, “Yes, I did, and I would do it again, even knowing her as I do now. What she offered me was worth the cost. I will not deny that.”

“Was it?” I looked back to the empty forest. The faint smell of cider hung in the air. “Was it really? Because your daughter’s still missing, and my mother’s still on a one-way trip to wherever the hell it is her mind’s been going for the past twenty years. It doesn’t seem like you got anything out of the deal at all.”

This all takes place while Toby is drinking Simon's blood; I think we've been given the very strong impression that Blood Can't Lie, which makes the "Simon is just bullshitting throughout" interpretation harder to apply (though I could probably be argued into believing that Simon is also a bloodworker courtesy of Daoine Sidhe heritage, and we do know he's stronger than Toby even now). But -- I think the obvious reading of this passage (and the one I'm inclined to given the number of other continuity Issues) is "this is the first time Simon went to Evening", with Patrick retconned later.

(ATA was released in December 2018; TWL was Sept 2014.)

[kaberett]

(Aha, and I've just got to the bit in A Red-Rose Chain where blood memories are indeed treated textual as hard evidence!)