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And so I try this auto-post thing

August 30th, 2007 (10:32 pm)

http://www.jessesword.com/sf has been set up by an editor of the book in the 1990s. I picked up a battered copy in, I think, the Oxfam Bookshop tonight - their late opening on Thursdays is fatal - and now have more Moorcock, Priest and Sayers to put on my shelf. When, that is, I have made up for lost time and made a second trip to the kitchen, forgetting briefly about calories.

I thought of giving this review a different heading. The pedantic side of my soul was urging me to refer to each other by feminine pronouns and adopt intersexual clothing and a flamboyance at odds with Pearce's sensitivity. 1941's Jack Harkness is a man, and a conscientious RAF officer known for his award-winning role as Geoffrey in A Taste of Honey, a breakthrough for the portrayal of homosexuals on film, and so his casting itself supports the telling of the story being rushed, as earlier in the year; and the drainage ditch around my street doesn't even have continuously flowing water, as it normally does after a few days of heavy rain. So calling this post 'Woodstock in Flood' is an exaggeration. Nonetheless, I took a little time to get used to Gerard Butler's Scottish Beowulf, who surfaces - literally - in such a way as to emphasise the on-screen rapport between the second Doctor and Jamie - hang on, I've just been very busy. I still have because it found its way into SocA's Ceridwen's Cauldron, and some of which I might be sensitive to this because of my adolescent devotion to The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail; as it is the narrator of The Historian ends up lending credibility to the conspiracy theory of history. I have, of course, a Doctor Who which has John Barrowman's name in its opening titles (about time; his absence from the credits of the final breaths of Lucy Westenra in Dracula; but while Arthur Holmwood is well advised not to kiss Lucy on the lips, Ianto has an inadequate Van Helsing to guide him.

Once Lisa was marching around as a metal-clad evangelist for Cyberconversion, and the Torchwood team were huddling in corners evading her, or not, I felt that Umbridge was one of over 19,000 British killed that day: available statistics indicate that the most vulnerable rank was captain. Nearly 1000 officers were killed, and of these very few gained individual recognition from the wider public. However, Captain Nevill and his footballs were featured in the local and national press: the Illustrated London News published a dramatic drawing by Richard Caton Woodville, ‘The Surreys Play the Game!’, and the Daily Mail published a verse, ‘The Game’. Nevill's deed was commemorated by his regiment, and the story was "terrible". Anxious to defend a series which most of my contemporaries regarded by that stage with derision, I pointed out the political allegories and the experimental elements such as the BBC 'Quatermass and the Pit' which I've been able to get by as a jill-of-all-trades by adopting a sort of converted warehouse with laid-back porters who aren't bothered about enforcing bag checks on everybody. Perhaps I just looked responsible and was unlikely to be a double review with 'The Satan Pit', I think.

Inspired by ladyofastolat and bunn, and reminded by the recent pictorial post by loneraven, I thought I'd post the links anyway:
Part One
Part Two


Posted by: viala_qilarre (viala_qilarre)
Posted at: August 31st, 2007 08:08 am (UTC)

This is... spookily like a real entry of yours. How do you do it??

Posted by: parrot_knight (parrot_knight)
Posted at: August 31st, 2007 08:28 am (UTC)

I think that there was a link provided by someone commenting on wellinghall's journal.