Oh my god this day. Here, let me dump some more Captain America: The Winter Soldier feelings. (I haven't seen it again, because free time, hah!)
Some fic recs, which I think ought to be pretty clear what they're like from the tags and summaries:
A lot of you have opinions about the ranking of Heyer books!
As of five minutes ago, Cotillion was the runaway favorite, with 45/64 votes putting it in the top tier.
Next were: Frederica (34), The Grand Sophy (27), Venetia (26), and The Unknown Ajax (25).
Bonus mention to The Talisman Ring (20), which has a fervent faction in comments making the pitch for its underratedness.
Okay, here's how this is going to go. I have a bunch of stuff I wrote before the movie, because I thought it would be useful in assessing it after and also I was indulging my anxiety because I really wanted this movie not to suck. That's first. And then I'm going to feelings-dump until I have to stop, and then I'm going to read all your spoilery posts, and then I'll probably be back tomorrow to talk some more about things other people have said.
(Oh, and guys? You know there's two post-credits scenes, by this point, right?)
Because skygiants asked, and because I don't mind using search & replace to generate DW poll code off of Wikipedia's novel list (hence the years, because it would take too long to edit them out): a poll about Heyer's Regency romance novels, what your personal top-tier are and, bonus question, what (if any) one you suspect is probably underrated generally.
Because there are a lot of books and the first question involves ticky boxes, it's behind the cut.
Coming out is supposed to happen in One Big Moment. Usually your One Big Moment involves coming out to your parents; sometimes, especially in fiction, it's coming out at a press conference or in front of an audience or something. But wherever it happens, the concept is the same: in that moment, your whole life changes. Before, you were closeted and ashamed, and after, you become open and honest. You have chewed your way out of the cocoon of secrecy to emerge as a beautiful gay butterfly!
[ . . . ]
So my One Big Moment was -- not. It was not big. It was not dramatic. It was, to be honest, pretty comical. [ . . . ] It didn't even manage to be a single moment, since I spread it over most of a day.
This was probably much better preparation for the rest of my life than I thought at the time.
bisexual people passing as straight when they’re in a straight relationship is not “passing privilege.” it’s erasure. it’s assimilation.
that’s like saying that femme lesbians have privilege over butch lesbians. invisibility might keep people safer on a micro-level which is fucked up, but it’s all based on people thinking they can tell who’s queer & who’s straight just by looking at them, which is infinitely problematic and painful.
don’t alienate queer people who are assumed to be straight. invisibility is a symptom of hetero-normativity, not a privilege.
With regard to this one: I agree with the first sentence of the last paragraph, but I'm not entirely convinced by the last. Or maybe I'm not thinking of "privilege" in a sufficiently narrow/term-of-art sense. But the day-in, day-out that thefourthvine describes? I'm in a heterosexual relationship, and as a result I don't have to do that.
Don't get me wrong—invisibility sucks! It's why I bothered to come out in the first place! But, seeing those posts in that order . . . I don't know, it just felt like a post I should make.
(And now, having failed to come to a better conclusion, I must take my dull self off to do some dishes and make the kids' lunches. Talk among yourselves, if you like.) comment(s) | add comment (how-to) | link
Over a year ago, friends asked me, heavily paraphrased, how did I manage to maintain outside interests after having kids. I wrote part of an email several months ago, and then in a (successful!) push to get to Inbox: Zero, finished it earlier this month. With their permission, and Chad's, I'm putting a slightly edited version of it here for public consumption.
I tried really hard to make it clear that I was writing from my own experience here and that other people's situations may vary, but I probably did less of that in a personal email than I would have in a public post. So consider that disclaimer bolded and emphasized up front: this is what I find helpful and what I thought those friends would also find helpful, but I'm really not judging anyone who finds that other things work better for them or who weighs priorities differently, because that is an awful thing to do (assuming thresholds of safety, care, and affection are met, of course).
Icon in honor of the Gorey covers of Sarah Caudwell's books, the first two of which I spotted on my shelves while changing clothes. They were only on my shelves because they used not to be available electronically, which has changed now, so hey, check them out—they're awesome.
[Selena] likes, I know, to pretend that Julia is a normal, grown-up woman, who can safely be sent round the corner to buy a loaf of bread; but, of course, it is quite absurd. Poor Julia’s inability to understand what is happening, or why, in the world about her, her incompetence to learn even the simplest of the practical skills required for survival—these must have made it evident, even in childhood, that she would never be able to cope unaided with the full responsibilities of adult life. She must have been, no doubt, a docile, good-natured child, with a certain facility for Latin verbs and intelligence tests—but what use is that to anyone? Seeking some suitable refuge, where her inadequacies would pass unnoticed, her relatives, very sensibly, sent her to Lincoln’s Inn. She is now a member of the small set of Revenue Chambers in 63 New Square. There she sits all day, advising quite happily on the construction of the Finance Acts, and doing no harm to anyone. But to let her go to Venice—I imagined her, wandering alone through those devious alleyways, looking—as, indeed, she does at the best of times—like one of the more dishevelled heroines of Greek tragedy; and I could not forbear to chide.
Familiar characters, something good on every page, plots I only partly remember, and just fun. There, reader's block conquered.
Thank you for all your suggestions—I'd forgotten that I need to put Hild on my list of homework. (I tried the sample online, but it was a lot of names and words for my current mood.) comment(s) | add comment (how-to) | link