nineveh_uk

1) The Shortest Way to Hades, Sarah Caudwell. Light, bright, a lot of fun, and a clever mystery. Also a pleasant change to have a detective story that doesn't involve sexual violence. I found myself thinking partway through that the most 80s thing about this 80s book is not the absence of email or mobile phones and that documents are typed, the boozy lunches, the fact that every single character with the possible exception of Hilary* is undoubtedly a Tory, but a relatively junior barrister not only owning a car but driving it through central London in the afternoon as apparently the quickest way to get anywhere.

2) Silent Parade, Keigo Higashino. Not lacking sexual violence (though no detailed description), but very good, and the thing that was annoying me as I was thinking "but why aren't they all doing X" turned out to be a twist, so that was fine. I'd not read any Higashino before and this was clever, readable, and I'll read more. I just wish that UK translations of Japanese novels would indicate at the beginning which way round they are putting the family name and given name. Either is fine, but since it seems to vary which is chosen in different books, I would like it to be made clear so I know.

3) Simon Boccanegra, Verdi. Opera North semi-staged production at the Royal Festival Hall, which means comfy seats, excellent sightlines, and much cheaper prices than otherwise in London. Rather tortuous trains, which the presence of

antisoppist made more endurable. The performances, vocal and orchestral, were fantastic and it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, but it's not going to join the list of my favourite operas because while the music is great, the drama isn't so strong. Too much of the plot happens off-stage with characters then reporting to others, ultimately I wasn't moved by the piece as a whole in the way I want to be by the operas that really work for me.

*Possible Liberal Party?

The Giro d'Italia has by far the most evocative competition jerseys of the three grand tours of cycling. Forget France's yellow or Spain's red, what could beat the rosa, ciclamino, or azzura?

I took my car to the garage last week as the central locking wasn't functioning, which meant that I couldn't lock it at all. It has been repaired, but in the course of this has demonstrated Life Lessons that I could have done without, namely:

* sometimes it doesn't matter that something has been maintained in good condition or had light use, the passage of time also ages things.

* hooking it up to the machine that confirms the faulty door is door X rather than believing your client who thinks - for good reason - that the faulty door is Y, but is mistaken, saves time.

But most of all:

* don't design a car without the capacity to turn off the central locking function and just operate each door with a key!

The other Life Lesson of the past fortnight is that however good an idea a dentist appointment at 8am on a Saturday may seem in theory, in practice, I deeply regretted that life choice. That's 100% my fault though, and will I learn from this triumph of hope over experience? I doubt it.

I am completely failing to write up a short fic that is a lot of fun in concept, but like pulling teeth to write. Character voices are not cooperating. Possibly if I ignore it for a bit, I can wrench a mini version out of it. In the meantime, I've been meaning for absolutely ages to mention some TV series, so I'll do that instead.

Mr Queen
In which a modern chef and a bit of a playboy finds himself bodyswapped with a depressed nineteenth-century Joseon era queen. At its heart is a terrific performance by lead actress Shin Hye-sun as our deeply confused protagonist, but the whole thing is just great fun. Can Jang Bong-hwan/Queen Cheorin navigate the pit-of-vipers court, avoid having sex with the king, and get back to his own time, hopefully having sex with his hot maid first? He may not know too much history, but he does have one useful skill: he can cook.

On a cultural ignorance note, this would have been a lot less confusing as my first Korean drama had I been aware that nineteenth-century Joseon attitudes to cousin marriage were not not those of nineteenth-century British literature. It turns out my "Ah, so the king can divorce his wife and she can marry her hot cousin and they can all end up happily" has a degree of wrongness as an interpretation up there with "Aslan is really Satan."

Watch on YouTube

Crash Landing on You
Wealthy South Korean businesswoman Yoon Se-ri gets blown off-course while paragliding and lands in North Korea in a Netflix success. Technically, the North Korean section of the MMZ, but she doesn't realise this until too late, and now she is stuck. Rescued by handsome, highly educated, sensitive pianist North Korean* army captain Ri Jeong-hyeok, can he and his battalion hide her until they can return her to South Korea, or will they be betrayed? Whether they will fall in love is, obviously, not in question. It's not all romance or North Korean army scandals, there's an extensive plot around her family's business, which she was going to take over before she went missing, and a family drama with various terrible relations.

There's so much to like about this drama. It has engaging characters, good acting, and a great plot concept. The visual design of the North Korean settings is fantastic, and it does not, in any way, make one think that it would be good to live in North Korea, despite the warmth with which some of the characters are portrayed. Unfortunately, it has sixteen episodes each about 70 minutes long, and once we got into the second half they felt longer. It felt as if approximately 50 minutes of plot has to be wrapped in an additional 40 minutes of romantic glurge, sometimes with graphics of pastel hearts and rainbows literally decorating the screen. Obviously a lot of people felt differently, but I don't think South Korean romantic TV drama pacing and I don't quite gel.

Also, I feel very aggrieved on behalf of the secondary romance couple. They deserved better, damn it!

*No, I wasn't entirely convinced by this, either.

Watch on YouTube

One of the major casualties of Covid for me has been the theatre, which I'm simply not up to going to as much as I was, so it was great this winter to go to two really good productions.

Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812, Dave Molloy, at the Donmar Warehouse.
Musical based on War and Peace - wisely, on a limited chunk of War and Peace - finally making it to the UK in an excellent production. I'm so out of touch at the moment that I didn't know it was going to be on, but fortunately

antisoppist did. I've no idea why it has taken 12 years (OK, Covid might have played a role there), because it is enormous fun. As the prologue tells us 'Natasha is young and Andrey' isn't here, but a lot of Moscow society is and taken up with entertaining itself at other people's expenses/being a miserable sod. Will Natasha's life be ruined for other people's idea of a good time? Will Pierre get a grip? Will anyone ever recognise (incuding Tolstoy) that Sonya is the MVP*? The singing and performances were excellent, production fast and sharp, and though it is not deeply moving, it tells its story very well. Surely some regional producing theatre must want to put it on? I'm baffled sometimes by UK theatre's curious resistance to the musical as a genre, despite the West End.

Plus surely the best piece in praise of a taxi driver in musical theatre.

Watch on YouTube

The Flying Dutchman, Wagner, Opera North.
I went up to Leeds to see this with my father and sister a week after Great Comet, and I have to admit that about a minute into the overture I was thinking, 'Great Comet was excellent, but this is on another level.' Fabulous orchestral playing of a magnificent score, superb singing and acting, a riveting experience from start to finish. The production introduced some concepts of refugees, being lost on the sea and wandering, including voices of refugees speaking their experiences, that met with a mixed reception. Frankly, I didn't think it really added much to the main narrative, but I've come across infinitely worse opera production concepts, and the critical bafflement about this one seems out of proportion. It was a pretty straightforward production with an additional element, there was no obscurity of the main story, and making Daland a government minister ranks pretty low on "weird things that happen in opera stagings".

Much more distracting to me was something integral to the original. While I was aware of the basic story (sailor cursed to wander the seas coming to land only once ever seven years, unless he can be saved by the love of a good woman), and there is little more plot than that, what I hadn't realised was that the second act is basically this:

Heroine's father: So I've offered you to this rich creepy kind of ghost sailor for his money.
Heroine: I have read a million vampire fanfics, I am READY.

I am not kidding. Senta is literally the girl that people worry about reading Twilight, she is DTF the exotic erotic scary doomed creature, and Wagner thinks that this is cool.

Have you seen the ship upon the ocean
with blood‑red sails and black masts?
On her bridge a pallid man,
the ship's master, watches incessantly.
Whee! How the wind howls! Yohohe!
Whee! How it whistles in the rigging! Yohohe!
Whee! Like on arrow he flies on,
without aim, without end, without rest!
Yet there could be redemption one day for that pale man
if he found a wife on earth who'd be true to him till death!
Ah when, pale seaman, will you find her?
Pray Heaven, that soon
a wife will keep faith with him!
...
Let me be the one whose loyalty shall save you!
May God's angel reveal me to you!
Through me shall you attain redemption!

I sat there thinking what a pity it was that Wagner died too soon to see Nosferatu. There is also some wonderful sea music, and the Dutchman has a great aria, but honestly, it's Senta's batshit goth fangirlery that sticks with me.

*Credit to the Olivier Awards, who gave Maimuna Menon the award for best supporting actress.

Fic: The Road to Bianliang
Fandom: The Radiant Emperor Series - Shelley Parker-Chan
Rating: T, CNTW
Length: 1858
Summary: Once a man has been told of the existence of an organised conspiracy among his superior officers to kill the Prince, seize the army, and march on the imperial capital, there is only one answer he can give if his life is not to be very short.

Fic: A Felicity of No Common Order
Fandom: Persuasion - Jane Austen
Rating: G, CNTW
Length: 1551
Summary: 'Sophy,' said Captain Wentworth, 'my business is serious. I go to call on Sir Walter to inform him that Anne Elliot and I are to be married. That is, that Miss Anne Elliot has done me the greatest honour and accepted my hand. Now, will you congratulate me?'

There's one further thing to discuss after an engagement - how to break the news.

Bath is basically regency Butlins.

Or, given the blend of both social stratification and social mixing, a cruise ship. Mrs Smith's interior cabin is below the waterline and she can't afford the entertainment/extras, but she knows the entire housekeeping staff.

I am not a big Eurovision fan, but for once I'm reccing a song. More specifically, I mean a silly comic song with a catchy tune despite being in a Finnish-Swedish dialect, very cleverly done, and generally I think that this year's Eurovision Song Contest should be won by KAJ: three Finns competing for Sweden with a song in praise of saunas. I know this because

antisoppist and I watched the final of Sweden's Melodifesten competition on Saturday. 12 songs, whittled down from 30 in the semi-finals, from 2000 entries. This was the sole one in Swedish, and apparently Sweden's first non-English entry since 1998. Apparently certain stalwarts of the Swedish Eurovision circuit are very unhappy. Diddums. This is an excellent, bonkers song that's actually memorable, and Måns' entry was very professional, very dull, and didn't deserve to win.

Anyway, you should vote for Bara bada bastu:

Watch on YouTube

With English subtitles.

I am also delighted by their ( filk to Nessan dorma )

You know how it is, shopping with thought and consideration for some specific art or craft material*, and then whoops! Your hand/brain slips and the basket now also contains something completely different as well. So I am still buying some acrylic paint and paper/canvas as my art class will be doing acrylics the next few weeks, but also popped in some watercolour burnt sienna (extremely useful for everything, can't believe I haven't already got a tube only a very used half-pan) and Daniel Smith lunar black (extremely niche, but exactly what I want for a volcanic landscape painting I am thinking of).

The last few months have been rather challenging, but one thing that has been great is that I signed up for an art class run by the local FE college, hugely enjoyed the first term, and signed up for the second. At the beginning of the term, we were asked about our experience and why we had chosen it, and I said that I was outsourcing my self-discipline so that it would force me to focus on things I never do in my own time, practice, and learn new techniques.

So it has proved. I've done very little other art on account of it taking up this space in my brain and free time, but that's fine. I suspect that without it I'd have done even less. It's Wednesday evenings, I can drive and park there and not get cold/wet, and the tutor is really good. It was badged as a mixed ability class, and she's really good at lessons that work for class members of a range of previous experience and ability, and giving people the support and guidance that they individually need so that everyone enjoys themselves and learns. Moreover, while it's easy to sneer (and I have done) at the fact that local authority hobby classes now need to have "learning objectives" etc for their funding, in fact the tutor's application of it works really well in providing structure to the course and individual classes, so that what we are doing is contextualised both as a technique and in terms of art history/modern painters**.

In short, I have ended my long-standing feud with pastels, though I will only be using them at home when it is warm enough to work outside, have actually done perspective exercises for the first time in my entire life, and found that a still life drawing exercises are fun, actually.*** I find myself concentrating like hell. And I'm about to have a go at acrylics, which I have only tried once a long time ago, and which offer the opportunity to do something different than I usually do. Insert second set of grandiose thoughts about what I could do with them. Basics first!

Moral of the story: I nearly didn't sign up because I thought it would be too tiring. It is too tiring, but it's worth it.

*Or in IKEA, whatever 3 small things are on your list.

**Likes them. Looks up artist and sees price/discovers they are Canadian. Oh well. But also does feel a bit inspired by seeing what people are doing and how they are doing it.

***Though last week when I thought it would be fun to do the odd one at home when I just wanted to do some art and didn't know what, my brain rapidly went "Yes, you could do a big complex mixed media piece of these objects that are also in your home and it would be interesting to have the objects and the painting in conversation in the space together." NO!!! I can just draw one tiny vase in coloured pencils on a sheet of WH Smith cartridge paper, actually.

Fic: Conversations in Raingold
Fandom: Some Desperate Glory - Emily Tesh
Rating: T, CNTW
Length: 2531
Summary: There's a lot still to talk about even after the end of the world.

*

I'm counting this as a 2024 fic, as I essentially wrote it then, but didn't have the opportunity to do a final edit until this morning, which makes 2024 was five works and two new fandoms, if not a high word count, and my most sexually explicit one by some margin!

I never made a post about Some Desperate Glory, which I enjoyed a lot. It was the right book at the right time, and one that fandom managed to sell to me correctly as "readable SF novel about a girl who grows up as an enthusiastic member of a space fascist cult and then discovers that the leopards want to eat her face," and I felt it delivered on that premise in an entertaining way. There are some structural flaws, but I found it engaging from beginning to end.

My hope to post a final fic to AO3 for 2024 was thwarted by succumbing to an unpleasant cold, which suffice to say I could have done without. Cold aside, it's been a good Christmas and new year, great to be in family company, and not least for other people to cook all my meals (although I did make a trifle). It's been spent almost entirely at homes on account of the weather and colds, and with this week's winter sports, the new Wallace and Gromit, and the excellent game of https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/46213/telestrations*, there are worse ways to hunker down indoors.

I would really like it if this cold would depart in the next couple of days, though, in time for me finish a fic, get some better sleep, and most of all, not turn into another antibiotics-requiring sinus infection.

Anyway, congratulations to all who did post to Yuletide and other exchanges, I look forward to reading over the next month, and to everybody, happy new year for 2025.

*Excellent for mixed-age families/groups, suitable for all ages that can do a bad drawing, certainly younger than the recommended +12.

Merry Christmas to all celebrating. I hope you have a lovely day.

Fic: Meeting the Competition
Fandom: The Radiant Emperor Series - Shelley Parker-Chan
Rating: G, CNTW
Length: 1090 words
Summary:
'Ouyang's a general,' said Esen defensively. 'Of course he values skill in a warrior.'
'Tell yourself that. But when was the last time Ouyang introduced you to a friend?'

When the Spring Hunt is rained off, Baoxiang is forced into a change of tactics.

*

Forgot to link this when I posted. Indicative of the general franticness of the last month or so, probably. Rather behind on responding to AO3 comments, too. Ah well, the hibernation of winter will be with us soon.

The summer feels like it has gone by in a flash, but not before I managed to Do Some Things with it. Mostly in Edinburgh, where I had the holiday I meant to have last year, before I came down with Covid on my first full day there. This year I did not have Covid and also seem to have managed to get back to about where I was healthwise last year before I got it again, which meant that I not only had a nice time with my parents and Youngest Sister, but felt up to leaving the house, if with the inevitable days of not being so good.

* A Little Night Music, Sondheim. Edinburgh Conservatoire, so students who can actually sing and a decent director. I'd never seen it before and had avoided looking up the plot, though genius was not required to work out which way things were tending. Strong performances from the leads and a solid cast in general, with good direction and ensemble pieces. I enjoyed it a lot, and it made me want to see the Bergman film/

* Legend of the White Snake. A 75 minute abridged version of the extremely long original, this was excellent, performed by the younger members of a professional Chinese company. My father boldly joined me, and we both really enjoyed it. The musical style is never going to be my favourite, but it was interesting to hear it live by trained performers. There were, thankfully, surtitles, and more humour than I expected, and some excellent fighting/acrobatics*, although that did not save it for the 10 year old boy in front of me who was silent but unmistakable in his wishing that his mother had not dragged him to this display of his cultural heritage. Having seen a piece of Kunqu opera once, would I go again? Definitely!

* An Irish Impressionist: Lavery on Location Large National Galleries of Scotland exhibition of the painter John Lavery (1856 - 1941). I'd never heard of him, but ended up liking his work a lot, he caught people very effectively, as well as landscapes. He had trained in Glasgow, then France, and worked in an impressionist style, mostly southern Europe and Morocco. Mum and I were struck by his evidently being a man with a strong sense of business, who had seized on opportunities to make his career. We were particularly impressed that, commissioned to do a large painting of Queen Victoria visiting the Glasgow International Exhibition, he had invited everyone to be in it to his studio for him to do a study of them, to make sure he got a good likeness. Only fitting for an important civic piece, of course - and meant that he got individual time with a large number of potential patrons and customers. Full marks to a self-made man.

* Yoshida: Three Generations of Japanese Printing at the Dulwich Picture Gallery. I really like father and son Yoshida Hiroshi and Toshi's work, so it added a new dimension to see them here contextualised by each other and also art by their wives and families. My favourites remain the traditional landscape styles, but some there were some interesting more abstract pieces, as well as a number of what ten year old me mentally categorised as "1960s grey gloomy things" that did not enliven a wet Sunday afternoon in Leeds Art Gallery (I was much more taken with the Lady of Shalott, and Gordon of Khartoum). I bought the catalogue.

*We also liked a more low key piece of movement of pretending to be on a boat and getting the swaying feeling across.

The geese are arriving. I put the bins out earlier this evening, before it was quite dark - it feels like it gets darker every night now, only three weeks until the equinox. It was so still that when skeins of geese flew overhead I could hear the beating and creak of their wings.

The problem with the summer Olympics is that there is vast amounts of sport everywhere - and yet still one ends up seeing some dressage or, worse, hockey. But with flicking between the BBC channels and bits of Eursport I am mostly seeing what I want, which is inevitably less than I'd like because I do have a life otherwise and obligations like work.

But not work for a fortnight, as I am on holiday. I decided not to try to go abroad this year and to just attempt to have the break in Edinburgh I meant to do last year, and technically did, except for testing positive for Covid the day after I arrived and then giving it to my parents. This year I shall hopefully get to go to a couple of Fringe events (mask welded to my face) and generally out and about a bit in between the extensive bouts of relaxation.

Paris seems to be doing a decent job of organisation, hubris of planning triathlon in the Seine with no back-up plan aside. They're certainly making the most of showing off the city.

Fic: A Bargain Undone
Fandom: Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik
Rating: G, CNTW
Length:1506 words
Summary: 'There is a question I would ask of your parents,' he said, 'and among my people it is a question that a lord should ask first of them, and so I believe it is in the sunlit world, at least where there is rank. But in your world, you have no rank, and in my world you have given me to know your character, and so I do not think you will be insulted if before I speak to your parents, I speak to you.'

On the day that winter comes and he takes her home, the Staryk King asks, and Miryem gives a different answer.

*

It's only taken slightly more than a year since I jotted down a complete outline/first draft, and about 2 and a half months since I got the hardback book from the library to check a few things, but this is essentially the AU ending 'fix it by breaking it' mentioned in this DW post. Not that that is anything like the longest time I've had a WIP active!

The Conservatives are out, an utterly ruinous series of governments ended. We have a Labour government who will get to pick up the pieces and then be blamed they can't work miracles in 6 months. But at least they'll try. A few criminal convictions for Covid corruption would be nice, too. We'll see. Good luck to Keir Starmer. I am happy. I'm very, very happy. It's just that utter relief is so overwhelming that the happiness has to wait a little. But that's OK,I can enjoy it over the summer. I intend to.

I did believe the polls. While polls can be wrong, the margins were the sort that weren't going to be wrong, were backed by a remarkable series of by-election results, and by the brutal fact that when people's lives are that bad, NHS waiting lists that wrong, and their relatives dead or business gone under from Covid, a snazzy campaign can't turn it around, and this was no snazzy campaign. This belief was buoyed on Thursday by a lengthy cross-country drive to

antisoppist's (thanks, motorway incident) that took me through Tory heartlands, areas that the party has to win for a majority. I saw two posters for them, in a single village towatds the end of route, but long before that I knew beyond all possible doubt that they had lost.

I felt very tired much of the weekend, evidently got a slight bug (again). But yesterday morning I got my act together and did a bit of painting, and had a go at a Lena Gemzøe style landscape, applying paint to very wet paper with a plastic card. It's a bit overworked, but all in all I am pretty satisfied with the attempt and it was fun and low stress, and interesting to see it evolve a long way away from what I originally thought I was going for.

( Images below )

Stories of violent death: novels and opera

Racing in the pink

In which my car is too much a metaphor

Mr Queen, and Crash Landing on You

Theatre: Great Comet, and Wagner (not simultaneously)

Fic: The Road to Bianliang

Fic: A Felicity of No Common Order

Thoughts on reading Persuasion

Eurovision 2025 campaigning

Art and art materials

Fic: Conversations in Raingold

...in with the new

Merry Christmas!

Fic: Meeting the Competition

Culture!

Not quite autumn, but very nearly

Sport, sport everywhere!

Fic: A bargain undone

Elated relief

Painting

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June 2025

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