Beyond Selidor

I managed to make myself feel low-level irritated in three different ways before I'd even left the house. I really need to learn that avoiding Twitter isn't enough: I need to leave all social media alone at the start of the day and just read books. (The culprits: a Facebook friend who seems to have a) gone full tankie and b) whose often justified criticism of the US sometimes tips into full on Putin apologia; and various hot takes from fandom journalists which never fail to grate. I think I need to just accept that while I love detailed meta, and in-depth reviews, fandom journalism almost universally irritates me.)

I tried to put all this from my mind by trudging out to the market in the rain, picking up bits and pieces of fruit and vegetables, cleaning and tidying parts of the house, and combing through the RHS website for planting instructions for a range of different vegetables. The former owners shared a detailed list of the vegetables they grew — they had a two-year rotation in each of the four garden beds, so we'll plant the same things they did in 2019 this year, then the 2020 stuff in 2022, and hope for the best. It was very soothing to think of digging in the soil, making compost, and growing and harvesting all that abundance.

Someone further down the road sells their homegrown vegetables from their driveway: cauliflower, potatoes, carrots, zucchini, onions, leeks, and cauliflower. It's almost enough to abandon our weekly veggie box delivery, although I'd want to be confident that they're going to continue making things available all year round. In any case, I bought some cauliflower, and made cauliflower and potato soup, using rosemary from our garden, and it was delicious.

I've read just two books so far this week. The first was Wings of Fury by Emily R. King. This is a retelling of the story of Zeus's overthrow of the Titans fron the point of view of three young women caught up in events. It suffered from a problem I'm finding all too common in a lot of recent fantasy fiction — ostensibly adult characters, in a setting where if anything people are treated like adults at a much earlier age than they are in the 21st century, reacting to the situations in which they find themselves as if they are 21st-century teenagers. I also feel that in books like King's, which are attempting something of a feminist slant on very misogynistic settings, there are two options: write a very sanitised book aimed at children, or write something that really leans into the darkness and horror. Wishy-washy YA middle ground just ends up seeming half-hearted. I dug into this in greater depth over on dolorosa12 in regard to Iliad retellings a few years ago.

The second book I read was the third Bridgerton novel, An Offer from a Gentleman, which so far was my favourite of the series. I'm not really sure why. I'm not a huge romance reader, aside from the odd KJ Charles book, and the tropes in this particular book are not normally ones that appeal to me. Having thought a bit more about it, I'm enjoying the Bridgerton series more for the depiction of the eponymous family than any of the romances. I really like stories about siblings who are each other's friends and obviously enjoy each other's company, and that's certainly true here.

It's set to be a rainy, snowy weekend, so there's definitely time for a lot more reading, although I'm not sure what I'll pick up next.